


Sit Down, I Think I Love You

by 0pposing



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drunk Sex, Drunken Flirting, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, First Kiss, Forced Ejaculation, French Kissing, Friendship / Flirting / Thinking of You Fest, Gay Sex, M/M, Mary is a bitch, Masturbation, Mild Kink, Oral Sex, POV John Watson, POV Sherlock Holmes, Play Fighting, Possessive Behavior, Roleplaying Character, Rough Kissing, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Tired Sherlock, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Virgin Sherlock, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:05:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0pposing/pseuds/0pposing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock hates every single one of John's dates and eventually he's had enough of hearing them shagging in his room. So after John comes home from a disastrous first date with another one of his tramps, Sherlock takes advantage of John's melancholy state.. blah blah blah smut smut smut.</p><p> </p><p>'Sherlock's lips parted partially and he darted the tip of his tongue out slightly, trying to pry John's lips open. A heat surged through Sherlock's groin and head, and he emitted a small, quiet groan, for which he was quickly embarrassed. His left hand found its way to the back of John's head and he took a hold on what short hair he could clench. '</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> This story is actually based off of a Roleplay my friend and I did, so I tried to keep it somewhat the same, meaning it IS in roleplay form! :) Each paragraph is separated into my friend's, and then mine. I'm italics, she's bold. Think of it as the italics is Sherlock's POV and bold is John's POV. Each chapter will end with 3 horizontal lines. Also, I apologize for my friend's grammatical errors (just try to ignore them) and her mistake on how their flat was laid out, but I decided to just leave it instead of correcting her. Enjoy!

_Sherlock paced back and forth in his flat, his hands shoved deep down into his coat pockets. John was supposed to be coming home soon, from his date with that dull brunette. She was mind numbingly stupid; just being around her made Sherlock shudder with disgust. He always wondered why John went out with these girls, they were always the same._

_One after another he'd bring to the flat, and each day Sherlock would be angry with him for bringing such a nuisance into his apartment._

_John did have his own room, but that didn't stop their horrid sounds from reaching Sherlocks. He'd cover his sensitive ears with his pillow, pulling it over his face and tugging it at the edges, sometimes kicking his feet at the thought that someone else had his John. He wanted to take those girls, shove them down the stairs, go back up and take John as his own But it could never happen. John was seemingly straight. So there Sherlock was, pacing like usual, waiting for his beloved to come home and give him bad news, as always._

_It was pretty dark outside, the cloud were voluminous and shadowy and they eclipsed the sun, bringing a form of depression to nestle into Sherlocks chest. He hated this. He hated waiting.._

* * *

 

**John sat in the back seat of the cab after he had dropped off his newest girlfriend Charlene. With a sigh, he reclined in the seat of the taxi, his forefinger and thumb rubbing his closed eyes. Charlene was fun but there was something about her...Or maybe something changed in himself.**

**Every since he and Mary split up, he hadn't been the same. John honestly couldn't place his finger on it. John felt numb and hollow. He had felt like this twice before. When he returned home from Afghanistan and when Sherlock faked his death. John chuckled almost bitterly and glanced out the window.**   
**Sherlock. Everything revolved around Sherlock. Sherlock brought something to his life; emotion. When he first met the man, he brought meaning to his life. When Sherlock faked his death, it felt as if Sherlock had ripped it all away leaving John an empty shell. When Sherlock came back, John was both extremely happy but extremely pissed. But now with Sherlock back in his life, Mary couldn't stand being second to him so she walked out on him. John couldn't blame her; he couldn't blame Sherlock either.**

**John would much rather be there for his friend than be there for Mary. God that made him sound like an ass.**   
**John sighed heavily and rubbed his hand over his forehead. He looked up at the roof and stared at the vehicles for a while before they slowed down before 221B Baker Street. John paid the fare and got out of the car walking to his flat. Maybe that was why he jumped around a lot. All the women were envious of Sherlock; having a relationship with the consulting detective made it difficult to find a girl who didn't require so much time and effort. John unlocked the door and walked in feeling, if anything, worse about it all. Maybe he should just stop dating. Stop all together. As long as Sherlock was in his life, John wouldn't be able to settle down. The man shook his head and tried hard to force his emotions off of his face.**

**The last thing he needed right now was to be read like a book. John walked up the stairs and opened the door seeing Sherlock standing up in the room. "Evening." John said and walked passed him, not wanting Sherlock to look at his face just yet. "Working on a case?" He asked as he went to make himself some tea.**

* * *

 

_"No, not at all. I was just waiting up for you. Wondering when you'd be home." He walked over to his usual chair and sat down in it gently, groaning. "I've been up all night. John. You're not looking at me." Sherlock furrowed his brows and intertwined his fingers together, putting them below his chin and leaning into his elbows which were placed on his knees. He squinted and eyed John from head to toe, deducing whatever he could. Clothes were wrinkled, he wasn't worried too much about impressing on this date. Bags below his eyes, signaling he was exhausted. He probably just wants to rest, not be scrutinized on what his mental state is.  
Hanging his head down, he sighed and sat back in his seat. "I know you didn't have a good date. I can tell. I also know you don't want to be interrogated about it, so I'll let it be and let you go to sleep. That is, if you don't want to talk. If you do, I'm here." He smiled a quick smile and flipped on the telly. Sherlock never wanted to talk to John about his relationships, but he did now. He was John to feel sad, so he could hold him and console him and make him feel worth something. But John didn't feel the same way. He was defensively heterosexual and wouldn't let Sherlock crawl under his skin in any way. But Sherlock had hoped he would be grateful he was offering to talk about his feelings. His heart hurt. It hurt every day actually. Everyday John left him for somebody else. But he knew at the end of the day, John would be home and he would be his once again.._

* * *

 

**John continued to look away when Sherlock mentioned he wasn't looking at him. He didn't want to just yet. He wished for one moment that he didn't have to be seen though every time he walked inside. John sighed slowly as Sherlock began to go on about what he saw in John; yet he stopped. This shocked John. Sherlock also offered to listen to him talk about what was bothering him. John glanced at Sherlock and for a moment, it looked as if something was bothering him. For a moment, it looked as if Sherlock was sad. John stood there silently before walking over to him, forgetting about the tea. He sat down in his own arm chair, glancing at the telly for a while, not even really paying attention to what was showing.**   
**He was doing this to himself. Pushing away from Sherlock; pushing himself at women. Because of Mary? Because of the detective's death? Because Sherlock was back? He didn't know what the reason was any more. Who he was becoming. John's eyes stared at nothing, his eyebrows furrowed. He inhaled slowly, trying to get to the bottom of it all, but he couldn't. It didn't make sense to himself any more. None of it. John shook his head slightly and rested his elbow on the arm rest and rubbed his chin, still staring off into nothing. He tried to sort out his own mind but Sherlock's name kept forming. Why damn it? Why was Sherlock the center of everything? Was it because a part of him hated the man? Hated him for treating him like he was an idiot, for faking his death, for shunning him when he went off in a rant, for being the reason for every breakup he had? Or was it because he loved Sherlock? Loved Sherlock's friendship, the comfort the man brought him, the closeness to another human that no one could ever replace. John finally glanced at Sherlock, his eyes moving over the man.**   
**"I don't know," John finally said. "I don't know what's bothering me Sherlock. " John looked away, feeling his own heart heavy with uncertainty. "Nothing feels the same anymore. Nothing seems...It all seems like a waste." He forced a smile and shook his head looking up at the stupid smiley face on the wall. "You probably really don't even want to listen to me. Sentiment means nothing to you anyways." John didn't mean that to be as bitter as it came out. He knew Sherlock was there for him but not emotionally. Sherlock was too logical for that. He claimed he didn't have a heart, why would he have one now for the petty things that was on John's mind. Why would such a great mind like Sherlock care about the trivial pains of John's heart.**

* * *

 

_"What on Earth, are you going on about? Why would I ask you something if I didn't want to know the answer?" He laughed out loud and got up to walk into the kitchen and start tea for them both. Flicking the water on, he leaned against the counter and stared at the back of John's head. He was obviously reluctant to tell Sherlock about his night, he could tell. But he had to get it out of him somehow. He wanted to know. Tilting his head and cracking his neck, he approached John from behind and placed two gentle hands on his shoulders. Leaning down, he talked softly. "John, I want to know. I'm here for you, you know that as well as I do. I may not be the kindest person, and I very much am an egotistical asshole, but I do care. As much as it may seem that I don't." He withdrew his face and turned back into the kitchen, fixing up their drinks. Putting them onto saucers, he handed a cup to John and relaxed into his chair once again, propping his feet up on John's knees and crossing his ankles. "Even if you don't want to talk, you're home now. And safe from any of those volatile and repulsive girls." He made a retching face and looked towards the TV again. Some stupid Maury type show was playing and Sherlock hated it. Rolling his eyes, he put his head back and sighed deeply, feeling actually for once, a bit tired. Yawning a soft yawn, he lolled his head to the side, looking at the telly again and trying to delve into it. It was boring, but not as boring as John was being right now. Or, he wasn't being boring. He was being closed up. Uncertain whether to tell Sherlock what was going on his mind. This bothered Sherlock. John should always feel safe with him, whether or not Sherlock could hold him in his arms or not.._

* * *

 

**Upon hearing Sherlock's answer about the question, John reclined back and rubbed his eyelids. See this, this is what he was talking about. Sherlock made John feel like an idiot. This is what pissed John off. Why would he want to come home to this? Being laughed at, being degraded because his mind couldn't process anything like Sherlock's. John could hear Sherlock starting to make tea and something inside John closed off more. He didn't feel like tea anymore, just felt like heading off to sleep. When Sherlock touched his shoulder's he jumped slightly but remained quiet to what he had to say. Sherlock was here for him. John opened his eyes and stared at the spot above Sherlock's arm chair where his head would be. John felt something rising up over him, something unpleasant. When the cuppa was handed to him, he slowly accepted it, and stared at Sherlock as he took a seat and turned his eyes back to the telly. He just stared at the telly, letting the show work his brain.**   
**John almost slammed the tea cup down and stood up. He started to pace for a moment before he turned to Sherlock and snapped. "You claim you want to listen to me but then you mock me for telling you anything! I was starting to open up Sherlock but you laugh in my face! Why must I humor you with my thoughts if you could just tell me what they are and call them stupid! Why do you constantly belittle me!" John pulled away and turned his back to Sherlock, walking to the mantle place. John stared at his own reflection, seeing finally just how tired and drained he was. He looked away, his eyes moving to the place where the skull used to sit. John leaned his head down slightly and rubbed his forehead with his finger tips. He felt guilty for yelling at Sherlock. Even if the man pissed him off, he hated yelling at him, but now...John just wanted to leave and head off to bed. He put his face in his hand breathing in a heavy sigh.**

* * *

 

_"John.." Sherlock winced at the harsh words that had just came out of John's mouth. He felt hurt. He drew in a long breath, looking toward John, then exhaled slowly through his mouth. "I... I apologize.. I didn't mean to upset you in anyway. I just come off like that.. I.. I'll be on my way. Goodnight. John." Placing his hands on the armrests of his chair, he pushed himself up and out of his seat, walking towards his bedroom door. He stopped for a second and turned his head slightly. "I hope you can forgive me." Sherlock continued to walk slowly, his coat drifting behind him as he made his way solemnly to his bedroom in shame. Upon reaching his door, he placed his hand on the knob and paused, letting his head hang down. Putting his other hand on his face, he sighed deeply, his eyes beginning to go red. He was on the verge of tears, but he could never do this. Not here. Not in front of John. The only time he had really let out was with Lestrade, and Lestrade was there to comfort him and tell him it was okay. But John would never do that. In front of John, Sherlock was supposed to be strong and smart. And sentiment, to him, was not smart. Sentiment made you lose sight of what was important, and what wasn't. It was just a chemical reaction in the body, and he could prove you could disperse it easily with just a click of the brain. His fingers flexed around the golden knob and he turned it, opening it slowly and stepping inside. Once inside, he didn't bother turning on the lights. Sherlock simply closed the door behind him with his foot, removed his coat and laid it on the dresser along with his shoes. He fell softly on his bed, letting a soft sigh out. It was good he apologized, he never did that. Sherlock hoped John could forgive him by morning._

* * *

 

**He apologized. John felt his shoulders slump and he sighed deeply. Guilt washed over him horribly and he wanted nothing more than to head up to Sherlock's room and apologize himself. After a few silent moments of standing there in the quiet room, John turned and headed towards his partner's room. He couldn't go to sleep knowing he just yelled at him like this. A part of him was glad he didn't see Sherlock's face, but just hearing the sad tone to his voice tore at his heart. He wasn't used to Sherlock sounded so apologetic... Normally John kept his anger inside; acting out like this wasn't right. He walked up the stairs and stood before the door. After a pause he reached up and knocked on the door. Without waiting for an answer, John opened the door. "Sherlock...I'm sorry." John glanced over and could see the long figure on the bed and he spoke again. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I know that's just how you are. I'm sorry. I guess I've just been so stressed and overwhelmed. I hope you can forgive me for my behavior..."**   
**The doctor shifted his weight. "Can I come in? Maybe we can talk about...something else?"**

* * *

 

_"Talk about what?" Sherlock said, a hate filled tone swept over his voice and he didn't move from the position he was in. His jaw was now clenched and he lay there in complete darkness. He wasn't too mad at John, but he was hurt that such horrible things could come out his best friends mouth. Sherlock did suppose that they were true, but even if those accusations were correct, he had tried his best to make amends with him and listen to how his night went. "We don't have anything to talk about. You're mad, I'm an arsehole. That's that. Petty feud, this is." He sat up against the headboard of the bed, bringing his knees up to his chest and patting the seat next to him for John to sit. "But I suppose we can chat about something, if that's what you'd prefer." Trying to smile, he failed and looked down at his in front of him, trying to think of something, anything, to talk about with John. On usual times, that was never a problem, but they were both on different ends for the time being, so they'd have to think of something that hit home for them both. Looking from his feet back up at John, Sherlock attempted another smile and succeeded this time._

* * *

 

**Hearing his tone, John felt like walking away. Now Sherlock was mad at him. John inhaled slowly and carefully as he walked the distance to the bed and took a seat. John lowered his eyes, resting his arms on his leg. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to fix things. John looked away staring at the violin that sat on the far end shelf. "I'm just hurt Sherlock. Hurt about a lot of things. About Mary, about you...When it comes down to it, I'm not mad at either of you two. I'm mad at myself. I keep closing in and I don't know how to open myself up anymore. I want to...open up to you. I want to be like we used to but...I haven't felt so alone, not since the day I thought you died." He shook his head, keeping his eye away. "Maybe I'm just afraid to lose you again. I lost you once...I lost Mary. I can't lost you a second time. I just can't." He rested his head in his hand. "I missed you so bad."**   
**It was hard for John to open up like this, hard for him to admit these thoughts. He braced himself for Sherlock calling him a fool. If he did, he wouldn't yell at him this time. Not again. Images of Sherlock throwing himself off of the building kept flashing in his mind. The image of seeing him on the floor, blood matting his hair and coloring his face. John took in a heavy sigh feeling himself slump. "I'm sorry... just give me til the morning...I'll pull myself together. I didn't mean to be such a mess..."**

* * *

 

_Grabbing John's arm firmly, Sherlock turned his head and looked at him. "John. Can you stay in here tonight? Just tonight." He noticed John would not look at him again, which saddened him inside. "Please." Sherlock turned away, pulling the sheets to the bed back and slipping his legs underneath them. He desperately wanted John to stay with him. Not just for tonight, but forever. The thought of him being alone in his room actually scared him. And Sherlock Holmes was never scared. But now he was, because his beloved was sitting right beside him, trying to make up his mind on whether he should accompany his flatmate in his bedroom. His bedroom. Not once, had they ever slept in the same bed together. There was the stag night where they had fallen asleep on the stairs together, but they were both completely intoxicated. Too intoxicated to make it up the stairs in that moment. But they did play a nice game upstairs afterwards and that was, Sherlock thought, maybe the closest they would ever get to being intimate. That might not have been the truth, he thought now. Sherlock, inside, believed with all his power he could make John fall for him. John was sensitive, and naive._

* * *

 

**Stay in his bed with him? John glanced at Sherlock slowly, wondering why he would ask such a thing. But after a silent moment of ponder John just nodded. "Let me just get out of these jeans." He said and stood up walking out of the room. John honestly wasn't sure why he said yes. Maybe it was because he was worried of the nightmares, or maybe he just wanted to fix it with Sherlock, really fix it. John made it to his room and pushed the door open before kicking off his shoes. John removed his clothes and pulled on his sleeping attire. Slowly the doctor glanced around his room. Come to think about it...he didn't want to be alone right now.**   
**John turned out of his room and turned off the light before he made his way back over to Sherlock's. He pushed open the door and stepped into the darken room. He wasn't sure of he should close the door or not, so he just left it open a crack. John pulled back the blanket and slipped into the bed, feeling a little bit awkward that he was sharing a bed with a man.**   
**John inhaled slowly and tossed a glance to Sherlock and shifted. Though they had spent these past years together, John honestly didn't know how to fully read the man. True he had picked up on small things, managed to read Sherlock's body language or facial expressions. Hearing the tone that Sherlock used to ask him to stay in the bed with him, John came to the conclusion it would be best to stay with him. He sounded...a little desperate.**

* * *

 

_Sherlock turned on his side, facing the opposite side of John and smiled slightly to himself. He knew John felt awkward, so he scooted a little ways away from him, shifting from his side unto his stomach, his face buried into the pillow and the smile slowly fading and his eyelids dropping completely down until he fell into a deep sleep. His best friend, flatmate, and partner in work next to him._   
  
_For the next morning, Sherlock awoke early, his eyelashes fluttering, trying to adjust to the darkness. Shaking his head softly as to not disturb John, he pushed back the covers, straightening them out once he had pulled on new clothes in the dark. Before exiting the room, he took one last glance back at the soldier sleeping soundly in his bed._   
  
_Closing the door behind him, Sherlock walked down the hall, turning right into the living room and settling down into his usual chair. It was extremely early in the morning, the sun hadn't even began to rise and Sherlock eyelids had started to slip down again across half of his eyes. Blinking, he tried raising them to stay awake, but to no avail, he fell asleep once again, his arms draped on the sides of the chair and his head lolled back on the neck rest. No dreams came to him, he sat there motionless and ready to be awakened to the blissful sound of John making tea for him once he had awoken._

* * *

 

**John closed his eyes and found that sleep came quickly to him. Laying on the bed with Sherlock was not as bad as he thought it would be. It kept the nightmares at bay and when he woke up, the man wasn't even beside him. John rubbed his eyes as he rolled onto his back and he yawned tiredly. He could see the morning sun peeking at the windows and he was thankful that Sherlock had a heavy curtain to block out the light. John sat up and brought his legs over the side before he stood up stretching. He walked down to his room and changed into some jeans and a gray and white striped shirt. John silently made his way down the stairs and stopped in the living room, seeing Sherlock sleeping on his arm chair. He smiled softly and walked over to him, looking down into his face, seeing how peaceful he looked. John turned away and made his way over to the kitchen and filled a kettle with water before putting it on the stove. He let the water boil before he opened the fridge and took out a few eggs and walked over, putting a skillet on the stove and cracked the eggs onto the hot pan. Letting them cook, John toasted some bread and inhaled slowly, glancing at Sherlock. He wanted to make up last night to his friend. Breakfast was an alright start...**

* * *

 

_Sherlock stirred slightly in his chair and lifted his neck, rubbing the back of it. The way his neck was positioned that morning definitely did leave a bit of a crick in it. It was sore and no amount of rubbing was going to fix that. "Mm.. Johnnn? Can you get me a bag of ice? I wasn't positioned very adequately this morning. It's a bit stiff." He looked at John, smiling slightly and rubbing his eyes with both of his index fingers. After he was finished rubbing, he shuffled over to the couch and laid down on it, hanging one of his legs off of the side. "Also, do me a favor and fetch my robe." Smirking to himself, he opened one eye and looked at John in the kitchen. Sherlock loved to make John uncomfortable. He loved to boss him around and see that unforgettable tensing in his jaw whenever he was ordered to do something._   
  
_Draping an arm across his forehead, he closed his eyes again and awaited for John to bring him his ice. It really did hurt, and was very sore, but Sherlock would show no emotion whatsoever and hold strong. After all, he had to impress John somehow._

* * *

 

**When John heard Sherlock awaken, he inhaled slowly, trying to think of a way to make up for snapping at him. Yet the orders came quickly enough John felt his jaw tighten slightly. Well...doing those two things would help. "Yea, sure. One second." He said before he turned off the kettle and put the toast on plates and then the eggs on top of the bread. John poured two cups of tea and placed them on a tray for easier serving. He walked over to the fridge and pulled out some ice bag and walked back to the tray, taking them both to Sherlock. John placed the tray beside the man and placed the ice in his out stretched hand. John then made his way back up the stairs and plucked the robe from Sherlock's closet. Returning back down stairs, John took the robe and held it out for him. He took a moment and looked him over, seeing the stiffness to Sherlock's neck and shoulders. John sighed and put the robe over the side of the arm rest and walked back into the kitchen. He opened the drawer where he placed all of the medical things and pulled out a muscle rub. John made his way back to Sherlock and moved to sit behind him. "Sit up, let me rub your neck." John helped tug Sherlock up and plopped down behind him as he opened the container and put some of the contents into his hand.**

* * *

 

_Groaning sarcastic like, Sherlock placed his hands on the side of him and brought himself up to a sitting up position. "Are you any good at this?" He snapped and grabbed the robe from the side and wrapped it around his shoulders softly. Folding his hands in his lap, he looked down at his legs, opening enough space for John's hands to massage his neck hopefully back to health._   
  
_From his side view, Sherlock's pale eyes wandered over to John's body, analyzing every detail from his clothes, to the grey in his hair and the wrinkles in his clothes. He smiled but quickly erased it, reverting back to his original smug, bored look. Sherlock groaned again and crossed his ankles on the couch. "Will you hurry? I'm beginning to become impatient." He smirked again and draped his hand across John's lap, flexing his long, pale fingers as he arrived for his John to wrap his neck with his rugged hands, massaging him and bringing him to ecstasy, or damn near close at least._

* * *

 

**John felt his lips tighten and he sighed as Sherlock sounded annoyed and even bothered at John offering to massage the tension from his neck. "Of course I'm good at this. I'm a doctor." John shifted so he could be as close to Sherlock as possible. The man was so much more taller than him so he had to be close enough. John let his fingers move across his partner's neck feeling the knots. John silently worked on it firmly, but not enough to hurt him. When Sherlock mentioned about getting irritated John sighed and motioned his hand to the food. "Eat something then!" John didn't let his outburst stop him; but if anything just added a little more force. John blinked as he felt Sherlock's hand on his lap but he didn't brush it off, just letting Sherlock do what he wanted. He usually got his way anyways. John rubbed his thumbs against the knot until he felt it finally loosen. Just for precaution, John let his hands linger a little longer, moving down to the nape of his neck and to his shoulders. John knew Sherlock was enjoying it, since he had finally shut his mouth. John suppressed the small grin as he finished and removed his hands. "There. Is that better?"**

* * *

 

_Sherlock winced and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Yes, actually." Turning his head, he looked towards John and smiled slightly, a light blush spreading across his face. "Thank you. John. For that. And just, eh, frankly being my friend, I suppose." He turned his head and slipped his arms into the robe instead of it being draped around his shoulders, then smoothed out the wrinkles that formed along his torso. "I'll be back." He turned and walked to his bedroom, taking slow steps every inch he moved. Getting into his room, he removed the robe, shut the door behind him and removed all of his clothes, dropping them onto the floor in a pile. Pulling the bed sheet off of his bed, he flung it around himself, wrapping it twice and pulling it at the ends to ensure tightness. He considered it to be a sheet day. He knew John hated sheet days. Sherlock could see it in his face. His eyes would follow Sherlock everywhere; from making tea in the kitchen, greeting Mrs. Hudson in the doorway, and making dinner, which he rarely did only if John was extremely hostile towards him for most likely ruining one of his dates. But once the sheet was secured, he opened his door and made his way back to John, entering the living room with a large, proud smile on his face. "I assumed it was sheet day. We're not doing anything, anyways. We do have a case tomorrow though, keep that in mind."_   
  
_Sitting back down on the couch, he kicked his feet up, crossing his ankles yet again and looking at John._

* * *

 

**John smiled softly when Sherlock stood up and thanked him for the rub. He shifted on the couch and his eyes trailed as the man headed up stairs. John took a moment and reached over to the table, picking up a toast and taking a bite of it. He wondered what they would do today. Sherlock hadn't secured a case just yet and he didn't have a job at the moment. John crossed a leg over the other and watched as Sherlock came back dressed in only a sheet. John closed his eyes and sighed. Sheet day. John detested sheet day. "Really Sherlock?" He asked and glanced at him as he took another bite from his toast. "Why must you insist in wearing only a sheet?"**   
**"You know what? don't answer. I actually have something I want to tell you." John let out a long sigh as he averted his eyes from the consulting detective. John reached over and took a cup of tea and took a sit. He reclined again as he took a bite from his toast and spoke again. "I know how much you hate my girl friends so I've decided to stop dating for a while. Just long enough so I can figure out what's going on with me. I figured you would like to hear that."**

* * *

 

_Sherlock furrowed his brows and looked over at John. "Oh? Why is that? Why would it please me?" Curious excitement built up in Sherlock and he swung his feet over, leaning hunched and placing his elbows on his knees, his hands in triangle position and his index finger touching his chin. A smirk built up on his face, yet it grew and grew before dispersing slowly, realizing what John said was true. He had never stopped dating for Sherlock. Girls were his strong point, and he pleased every one he brought home. So him stopping his whole dating routine was completely out of the ordinary._   
  
_"So.. no more girls? What about guys? Are you just becoming immune to the female ways now?" Sherlock smiled and leaned forward more, inching closer to John as much as he could. His feet were placed directly in front of him, the sheet that was wrapped around him was opened partially between the thighs. In case John's eyes wandered anywhere, which Sherlock predicted they were going to, they would land exactly there_

* * *

 

**John glanced at Sherlock then glanced away. "Well, I knew you hated the girls I brought over and frankly they hated fighting you for my attention." John finished his toast and his cup of tea as well. He leaned forward and placed the cup down and sighed, reclining back again. "No no...It's not like that. I'm not turning my attention to guys Sherlock. It's just...I don't feel like me anymore. The girls aren't helping. Dating anyone isn't helping." John glanced at Sherlock when he noticed that the man ws edging his way closer and John's eyes wandered slightly until he saw the open gap between the sheet and Sherlock's leg. John blushed slightly and looked away. He cleared his throat and shifted slightly. "How about a drink...something stronger than tea?" He asked and stood up walking over to the kitchen. He took a moment to ask himself, What was going on with Sherlock? Before he grabbed a glass of liquor from the cabinet and poured it into a glass. He downed it and closed his eyes gritting his teeth at the strength of it. "Do you want any Sherlock?" He asked again.**

* * *

 

_"Two full glasses please. We have nothing better to do." He smiled and stood up, standing in the middle of the flat living room, waiting for John to return with his drinks. It was the perfect plan to Sherlock. Get John a little drunk, maybe more then drunk, flirt a little and then initiate the sentiment. Sherlock would lure him in with sentiment. Tell him boring life stories, talk about how Mycroft used to read to him before bed. Reminisce of the days with his fair Redbeard. and eventually John would succumb and start to feel empathy for Sherlock._   
  
_And right then, that's when Sherlock would attack. Announce that his feelings for John were a little more than innocent; a little more than friendship. Something much bigger that Sherlock had really never handled before. In his college days, he was madly in love with an older boy, David, who felt nothing for him back, but made him do his dirty work in exchange for small messages of flirting or sexual times. But now was different. This was his John Watson. And only his John Watson, and he would make it so. Even if Sherlock had to become intoxicated._

* * *

 

**John sighed softly and filled the two glasses. H went to return the drink but on a second thought, he kept it with him. Who knows. With Sherlock's sheet day, John should just get drunk. He hasn't done so in a while. John returned to Sherlock and handed him the glass and he took a seat again, placing the bottle between them. John sat down opposite of Sherlock and drank from his glass before lowering it to the side table. His eyes traveled over Sherlock's face, watching the man who stood silently in the middle of the room. "So..." John said as he looked at his drink before taking another gulp. "What to do..."**

* * *

 

_"What do you mean, 'What to do?', John Watson? What do you usually do when you drink?" He chuckled at his own sarcastic remark and downed the first glass, placing the cup on the table and leaning back against it, on his elbows. He narrowed his eyes at John and smiled. "What. do. you. do?" Smiling, he leaned his torso forwards towards John. "Don't be shy." Swirling the liquid around in his other cup, his eyes shifted towards his drink, watching it swirl in circles. The smile faded from his face and Sherlock's eyes shifted lower; to the floor to be exact. Reality had begin to sink in. There was no chance between the two of them. Never would there be, even if John never had a girlfriend for future chances, Sherlock would definitely not be the one John would come crawling to in seeking a relationship or anything of the sort._   
  
_He downed the second glass, looking back up at John and smiling weakly_

* * *

 

**John felt his lips tighten but he remained silent, instead he watched Sherlock. The clever man chuckled at his own words before searching John. John remained silent as he drank his glass and moments later, Sherlock looked down. John furrowed his eyebrows slightly seeing the sudden change in Sherlock. Was John doing this to him...his own closeness was hurting Sherlock. John looked away and finished his glass before pouring himself another and taking a gulp. For Sherlock's sake, John started to lower his guard. He reclined in his seat and let out a breath, "Well, when I'm drinking with someone, I make jokes. Make them laugh. Loosen them up a little. I tend to flirt." He said bringing the glass to his lips and taking another swing. He could tell the strong liquor would soon numb his edge.**   
  
**After a few glasses and half their bottle gone, John had done just that. He was more relaxed than he had been in weeks He sat there with a small grin on his face, feeling the liquor had gone to his head. He drank more than Sherlock at this point and he tried to pour himself another glass but spilled some on the side table. He giggled and put it down. "Oh shoot..." He said and dried it on his shirt looking at Sherlock. "Your eyes...Did I ever tell you I loved the color of your eyes?" John said as he picked up his cup again and drank from it.**

* * *

 

_"No. I can honestly say you've never told me that." Sherlock furrowed his brows, but raised one. The alcohol was beginning to get to John, and John noticed how suddenly depressed Sherlock had become. Pouring himself another glass, he gulped half of it down and smiled meekly at John. "You flirt? Is that what you're doing right now?" Taking another swig, he pushed away from the table and sat on the couch next to John, placing one hand on John's leg, patting it softly. He had only a slight bit of alcohol, but just enough to take some of the tightness in his chest out. Sherlock's head had felt like it was like a balloon. Just floating softly, but feeling nothing. Soon enough, he poured himself another glass, removing his hand from John's leg but then replacing it once he had filled his cup to the brim. Taking a sip, he looked over at John and noticed there was a ring of alcohol tracing along the side of his lip._   
  
_"Oh, hold still." Going to the kitchen, he grabbed a cloth and walked back, sitting back down and swinging his legs in the direction of John. Grasping John's chin slightly, he turned his head towards him and started to blot the liquid off of John's cheek gently, smiling as he did so. Finishing, Sherlock placed the cloth on the table and looked back at John. "There."_   
  
_Sherlock placed his thumb on John's cheek, presumably making sure there was no trace of the alcohol on his cheek, but also to just feel John's rough skin under his finger._

* * *

 

**John giggled at the comment of flirting with Sherlock. He patted Sherlock's chest and smiled giddily. "Am I flirting with you?" He asked and didn't seem to notice as Sherlock placed his hand on John's leg, the first time, but the second caught John's attention. John glanced at Sherlock's hand only to look up as the detective stood up and left to the kitchen. John put the drink down and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Moments later Sherlock sat down before him again and gripped his chin. John was forced to look at Sherlock as the man before him cleaned off the spill from his face. He remained still, watching Sherlock as he seemed satisfied at the now cleaner doctor. He could feel Sherlock's eyes on him as well as his slightly stroking thumb. John inhaled slowly, observing Sherlock. "Have you ever dated anyone Sherlock? Ever kissed anyone?" John honestly didn't know why he was asking this, but a part of him felt as if Sherlock had always been along. The thought of that sort of hurt John; knowing that his best friend never had anyone by his side.**

* * *

 

_Sherlock leaned his head closer to John's slightly, squinting his eyes and frowning. The alcohol had finally set completely in and he wasn't sure if he could filter his sentimental thoughts. "Only for cases." He confessed. Sherlock had never had a relationship with anyone. Deep down in his heart, he was always afraid of getting hurt. Whenever he'd watch crap telly or films, he'd always seen so many people cheating or moving onto another person. He had vowed to never let that happen. "And.. well," He swallowed thickly, "sex is only for cases as well." Sherlock averted John's gaze and looked down at his legs, his hand still positioned on the side of John's cheek and slowly rubbing. "I usually avoid talking about this. Sorry for being so short today. And right now in general. Maybe I should go to bed." Sherlock looked back at John and smiled softly, taking his hand off of John's face and placing it on his upper thigh, feeling the warmth emit off of it. Heat surged through Sherlock's lower body and he blushed slightly. "Why do you ask though?" Sherlock questioned before he had stood up to leave_

* * *

 

**For cases. Sherlock opened for cases only...Not to him though? Why? John looked up as Sherlock stood and he reached up clasping Sherlock's hand. "You don't have to go just yet..." He said and looked up at the man. "I was just wondering." John said and rested his head against Sherlock's arm. "Stay with me Sherlock...I don't want to be alone right now." John said almost sadly and released Sherlock's hand. He rubbed his eyes and yawned a little but reached over for his cup of very cold tea by now and picked it up. "Hm...It's cold." He stood up and staggered a bit and fell against Sherlock's chest. John straightened himself up and looked at the man. "Tea?" He asked as if he was going to make any in his state.**

* * *

 

_"I'll help you make it. I'd like some." Sherlock's arm slithered around John and found its way to lay across the top of his shoulders, slightly bringing him closer. He then looked down at the doctors dark green eyes and scanned his face for any sign of emotion. Sherlock gathered few hints of lust, of attraction, and of desperation. But those alone, there was also one Sherlock had trouble deciphering. He saw fear. And sadness. John was scared, it seemed. And Sherlock didn't know why. As his arm was around John now, he took it back and wrapped both of his arms around John, hugging him tightly, squeezing him to his chest and placing his chin on the top of John's sandy blonde hair. Sherlock didn't know why he was hugging John, he just was. He wanted to be closer to John and feel the warmth from his body touch him. Eventually his grip on the doctor loosened and he let go, trying to step back a couple inches. "Sorry. I'm so sorry, I d- I didn't mean t-to.." Sherlock stuttered awfully and his face began to turn a bright shade of pink, even spreading to his ears and nose._

* * *

 

**John seemed confused when Sherlock pulled him in tightly and held him against his chest. John tried to glance up at the man but felt Sherlock's chin against his head. John slowly closed his eyes and rested his cheek against Sherlock's chest. John's warm breath washed over his skin and he could feel the detective's heart beating against him. John smiled softly and thought to himself; 'So he does have one.' But when Sherlock pulled away and suddenly left John with little support, John staggered slightly forward and looked at Sherlock who apologized profusely. John looked at him and saw the blush on his face. Slowly he walked over to him and stood before Sherlock. Something was happening here...John mentally kicked himself for being so drunk. If he was more sober he'd be able to put it together but right now John only saw the blush on Sherlock's face. "Don't be sorry Sherlock..."**

* * *

 

_Sherlock nodded and looked down at his feet, sniffling slightly. "John.." He brought up his head and looked at John once again, the color from his face now completely gone. He looked sickly. Sherlock's hand wandered up to John's chin and he grabbed it with his thumb and index finger. "John, what's happening to me? I'm.. feeling?" Sherlock furrowed his brows and squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing thickly. His tongue had become heavy from the alcohol and it was only fading slightly. Sherlock did not have nearly as much as John, and John's drunken state was nowhere near going away. If Sherlock were to make an advance, this would be the perfect time. The only thing holding him back was that he was scared John would reject him. Even in his completely blizzard state of mind, Sherlock was sure John could tell the difference from right or wrong._

* * *

 

**John watched Sherlock's face change drastically and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Feeling Sherlock grip his chin again John listened to Sherlock say he was feeling something. "Feeling what...Sherlock?" John could feel himself trying to push past his lucid mind but he was too far gone. It took all his concentration just to lock his eyes on Sherlock and focus on him. John inhaled slowly, before he reached up and cupped Sherlock's hand , holding onto it. John closed his eyes, swaying slightly and offered a small tired smile. "Don't be afraid to tell me what you're feeling Sherlock. I won't judge you."**

* * *

 

_"I'm.. I think I'm feeling.. for you.. I don't know, I'm sorry." Sherlock looked at John, a weak smile forming. His face leaned in closer and he studied the doctor intently, his eyes darting over every detail of John's face. He couldn't do it. Sherlock couldn't hold back anymore. Slowly, but not too slowly, his lips brushed against John's and he mashed both of their lips together. Sherlock's lips parted partially and he darted the tip of his tongue out slightly, trying to pry John's lips open. A heat surged through Sherlock's groin and head, and he emitted a small, quiet groan, for which he was quickly embarrassed. His left hand found its way to the back of John's head and he took a hold on what short hair he could clench. He wasn't letting go. Sherlock pressed his entire body to John's and tightened his grip on John's hair._

* * *

 

**Maybe if John was sober he could have processed what Sherlock had said before the man leaned down to kiss him. John felt his eyes widen and his own cheeks turn a bright pink and his hands quickly jumped up to grab Sherlock's sheet before he was pulled against his chest. John felt a desire to push him away and break the kiss but after a second had passed a small though rose up in his head. What the hell.... John closed his eyes and his lips parted slightly for Sherlock's tongue. feeling the hand curl against his hair, John moved his own lips with Sherlock and for the first time in a long time, John felt his heart jump.**

* * *

 

_Once Sherlock had regained his senses, he blushed and pushed away from John. "Jesus. Shit, I'm sorry." He wiped his lips with the back of his robe and coughed softly. "I'm really sorry.. I-i uh, I'll be heading to bed now. Goodnight, John." He nodded slightly as if saying goodbye and turned around, heading to his bedroom. Once he was inside, he shut the door behind him and slid down onto the floor, his back against the wooden door. Sherlock placed his head in his hands and shook it softly, anger building up inside him. How could I do that, he thought. How could I just put John into that situation? This isn't his fault at all. He didn't deserve this. Sherlock stood up now, removing his robe and being stripped naked. He pulled back the covers of his bed and slipped underneath them, facing away from the door. Sleep wasn't going to come this night. His mind was racing with ideas of apologies and he had half expected for John to come in and announce he was moving out._

* * *

 

**John inhaled sharply when Sherlock pulled away. Looking up at the man, John stood silently by as Sherlock apologized and ran off to his room, leaving the doctor alone. John slowly sat down and closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers against his eyelids. What just happened...Sherlock had kissed him...and he kissed back. John remained this way for a while before he lowered his hand, feeling a bit more sober than before. Standing up, John walked out of the living room and made his way to the stair case. His first thought was to head to his own bed, but after the image of Sherlock's face, John went to Sherlock's room instead. Stopping before the door, John knocked on it twice before he opened it and walked inside. Silently, the doctor stood by the door, watching Sherlock lay in the bed, facing away from him. With his mind still a bit fuzzy, John shook his head, not sure if he wanted to wake him up or head back to his room and talk the next morning with him.**

* * *

 

_Sherlock lay in his bed soundly, his eyes were wide open. He had heard John come in, but he didn't want to say anything. It was not his choice to make. If John wanted to talk to Sherlock about what had happened, then he would let John make that decision only, not himself. His heart had sped up rapidly and he was nervous for the harsh words he might receive from John. Finally, with a large sigh, he turned over and looked at John, pulling the blankets up to his chin. "You might want to keep your distance." He snapped, darting his eyes to the floor where the clothes that he took off lay, indicating he was but indeed, naked underneath the bed covers. Rolling his eyes after snapping at John, he sat up and leaned against the headboard of the bed, he kept the sheet above his waist, but his chest was bare._

* * *

 

**John glanced at Sherlock a part of him stiffening up when Sherlock snapped at him. His eyes followed to the floor, seeing the clothes tossed aside. John continued to stare at the clothes before he spoke up, "You have so little faith in me." John then glanced at Sherlock watching him sit on the bed. "I said I wouldn't judge." John didn't move from his spot, feeling any movement might be perceived as wrong. John inhaled slowly, picking his words as carefully as he could. "I...didn't mind it. It was...different. Not unpleasant. Just...different." John continued to watch Sherlock. "I'm not mad at you...I'm not going to move out..." John contained to stand where he was, having admit he didn't hate it but not sure with himself to see if he could admit he liked it. He wasn't sure if he did or not. John ran his hand though his hair slowly.**

* * *

 

_"You don't need to lie to me. It's only going to hurt both of us. You tried to pull away at first, I noticed. And by noticing that, I can deduce you didn't like it. You just gave in so you wouldn't hurt my feelings." Sherlock looked down at his lap and chuckled to himself. "I apologize, once again. For kissing you, and for snapping at you. I didn't mean to snap, but I did mean to kiss you. I'd been wanting that for so long, John.." He trailed off and began to bite at his nails, avoiding John's gaze. He'd been wanting John to move forward, but he lost more hope as the doctor was still in the same position he had been in since he walked into the room looking to talk to Sherlock. He sighed and looked at John again, not stopping biting his nails. He spit out a piece onto the floor and put his hands by his sides. Sherlock had rarely been like this. Nervous and scared. And don't forget highly embarrassed. He had taken a risk that he had wanted for a long time, and now he was in the middle of being rejected._

* * *

 

**John inhaled slowly as Sherlock went off on his rant and waited silently until he was done. It was a very good deduction but not all of it was right. "Sherlock," John started and shifted looking into those pale blue eyes. Seeing Sherlock like this reminded him of the time when he thought he saw the hound. John made up his mind and walked over to him and said firmly, but not rudely, "I'm not lying. I don't lie to you. There is no point because you can see right through it. I said it didn't bother me." John stood up straight and watched Sherlock. "It's not...something I normally do. I like women..." John looked away, "But when I see you in any form of danger I drop everything for you. Whenever you need me, I am at your side in seconds. When you call for me, I forget my girlfriends and run to you. Stop thinking you don't matter to me...Because you do." John glanced over at Sherlock again and sat down on the bed. "I'm not rejecting you...I just...don't know what to do."**

* * *

 

_"Me neither." Sherlock admitted. "And I always know what to do. Shocker, eh?" He smiled and chuckled out loud softly, placing his hand on top of John's and patting it softly. "I know you care, John. I know. I just never want to acknowledge that, because I know it'll put more danger into our lives than we need." Sherlock said. "It makes a weak point for our enemy to enter." He sighed and looked at John, raising his eyebrows. "And I also know you like women. Love, actually. You love women." Patting his hand again, Sherlock's own hand began to wander up John's arm, slowly rubbing. "I'm sorry for ranting so much, it's just what I know best." Sherlock's grip tightened on John's arm. "Will you stay in here tonight again? It's not even lunch time but I want to sleep all day."_

* * *

**John glanced at Sherlock, listening to him talk. He felt as if his words might have calmed the man slightly and he was happy for that. He didn't like Sherlock to be upset. Come to think of it, he didn't like Sherlock to be anything but happy. Yet at a comment John shook his head. "I don't think that anything else between us will put us in any more danger. I mean...just being friends put us in hell already. I doubt being anything more could do more damage." John listened now to Sherlock rant. Yes he did love women but he loved Sherlock more. Though up until now it was only as a friendship. John nodded at the question of him staying. "Of course I'll stay..." He looked at Sherlock then and kicked off his shoes. It didn't bother him that Sherlock liked men, it really didn't surprise him. Sherlock was different in all aspects. Yet it might have surprised him if Sherlock liked women and only felt this way for John, yet not enough to push away. John inhaled slowly and rubbed his eyes, "Let me get something else better to wear." He stood up and walked to the door. "No, I'm not expecting you to put on clothes," John added as he headed down to his room and returned moments later in sleep pants and a loose fitting shirt before he sat down on the bed again and pushing the blanket aside.**

* * *

 

_Sherlock smiled as John got into the bed with him. He tried to cover up as best he could when John lifted the blankets though. He turned on his side and faced John. "I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep." He confessed. "But I'll let you." Smiling, he put his hand on the side of John's face, rubbing his lower lip. "Today has been a harsh day for you, I know." He withdrew his hand and put it underneath his own pillow, yawning softly. Sherlock had never wanted to kiss John more. Even in the living room, his feelings were not at a high like this. The man he had wanted to confess his love to you was laying right next to him while Sherlock himself was completely bare. Yet John did not want Sherlock to dress. That pleased Sherlock and he leaned forward slightly, not to kiss John, but to just be closer to the doctor. "Goodnight, John." Smiling, Sherlock closed his eyes, knowing that it was all to no avail. Sleep would not come for him._

* * *

 

**John laid beside Sherlock and rolled over to face him. As soon as he felt his head landing on the pillow he felt exhausted. He hadn't felt so tired before. For a moment he felt Sherlock touching his lip and he smiled, actually enjoying the feeling. When Sherlock leaned closer, John looked at him, studying his face as well. He seemed happy, a tad bit more relaxed. This warmed John and before he knew it, his eyes had closed and had drifted off into a deep sleep.**   
  
**John opened his eyes hours later and rolled over with a groan. He grabbed his phone and glanced at the time, surprised to see it was four in the morning. He dropped back on the bed and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands before he remembered what happened the night before. Sherlock had kissed him. John glanced over and made out Sherlock's form. He watched him silently and inhaled a bit, "Sherlock... are you awake?" He asked in a whisper.**

* * *

 

_"Always." Sherlock mumbled and shifted his position slightly. "Why do you ask?" Overnight, Sherlock had turned over onto his stomach and was facing away from John, so now he turned his head and look at the man sitting beside him. He blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the light. No light had begun to stream through the curtains yet and he yawned, exhausted from a night without sleep. Turning over onto his back, he stretched his arms above his head and almost took the covers off, forgetting about his nudity. Sherlock quickly stopped before John could notice and pulled the covers back, at least up to his bellybutton. Yawning again, his head fell back on the headboard of the bed with a soft thump. "What time is it?" He asked and his fingers found their way to John's, and he brushed against them softly, wanting to hold his hand but too afraid to do so._   
  
_Sherlock's gaze shifted over to the window. It was open slightly, letting in little droplets of rain from outside. He smiled. He loved that sound, that smell and everything that coincided with rain. It was a peaceful feeling, unlike what the atmosphere was like the day before._

* * *

 

**John cleared his throat softly as he rubbed his eyes again. "Uh just seeing if you were sleeping... It's 4:23." John yawned and stretched before lowering his hand to the bed and felt Sherlock touch his fingers. John glanced at him, seeing the averted look. John thought for a moment before he felt his own heart rate increase slightly. John blushed and felt slightly awkward as he looked down, the urge to hold Sherlock's hand was there...Small but there. Acting on it, John moved his hand, breaking the distance and wrapped a few fingers around Sherlock's thumb. Still keeping his eyes away John broke the silence, "Sorry for being so drunk last night...I'm amazing I don't have a huge headache right now...maybe because it's dark." He said, rambling slightly, trying to push away the slight nervousness he felt. He didn't know why he suddenly felt like this, hold Sherlock's hand. John shifted and rested his back against the head rest before stealing a glance at Sherlock. He could feel something changing inside him, was it because of that one kiss?**

* * *

 

_"We both make our mistakes, it's alright." Sherlock looked at John and smiled softly, barely visible in the dark light of the room. He felt John's fingers curl around his thumb and he blushed, invisibly of course. He now tightened all his finger's around John's hand and intertwined them together. He had hoped John wouldn't resist. Yesterday was embarrassing, he thought, but today it could be better if he tried once again to show his feelings, but in an orderly fashion and not whilst drunk._   
  
_"John, would you like to go to dinner tonight? And maybe after, we can go to that animal shelter you've been wanting to go to. You've been asking, and I've been refusing, but it doesn't seem that bad an idea." He asked and sat up more, leaning now closer to John and beaming at him, a large toothy smile peaking out from his mouth. Sherlock's hopes were high, he knew John couldn't say no to going to see the animals._

* * *

 

**John felt a small smile show on his face when Sherlock encased his hand. Sherlock's hands were slightly bigger than his own and softer, but not as strong. He liked it actually... Dinner? John recalled the times they went to eat out, normal it was in the middle of a case and they left before John had even finished eating. Yet he felt it would be different this time. John was about to accept but when Sherlock mentioned about going to the animal shelter John smiled and chuckled. "Promise?" John now couldn't stop smiling and he glanced at Sherlock. "I was going to say yes before you added the shelter part but now you can't take it back." Feeling excited to see the dogs and cats, John could imagine the thought of a dog running around in the house. The offer alone surprised John but made him happy never the less. He couldn't wait now.**   
  
**Pushing the excitement down, John glanced at Sherlock and looking at the shape of his face. It was hard to see the details but John knew Sherlock's face so well he could imagine every detail. "I want to ask you something..." He paused and swallowed a little, wondering what will come from the question. "The kiss... last night...did you get what you wanted from it?"**

* * *

 

_"I.. I think I did, actually. I- I, um, I'm not sure. If-if you enjoyed it, I certainly did get what I wanted out of it. And that was you." He smiled and gave John's hand a tight squeeze. "But if not, I can assure you I won't do it again and it was my mistake. And no, I won't take it back." The last sentence, Sherlock was referring to the animal shelter, not the kiss. Although, he did not want to take the kiss back either. In fact, he longed to do it again. And there he was, inches away from John's face and Sherlock could easily swoop in and woo him. But Sherlock needed to know where John stood on the case. Whether or not this was supposed to be left in the past, or if it should continue and blossom into what could be, to Sherlock, a beautiful relationship of lovers, and partners in work._

* * *

 

**Hearing that Sherlock got what he wanted pleased John, but hearing that it was him made John fall still. The next thing that came out of John's mouth would have a huge impact. Did John want that to continue or did he want it to stop? He had already concluded it was the end of the line for the girls for a while, but now it felt he was at a cross roads. Sherlock and John had been though many things. Friendship, joy, anticipation, hate, fear and even panic. John felt at home when Sherlock was at his side, even if he was pissed off. He felt horrified when Jim tormented him even with only words. He felt loyal to the man even on the first day when Mycroft asked John to spy. So many of his emotions were already tied in; why not just add love into the mix. John inhaled again and realized that loving Sherlock would not come at a price. It would almost be...letting go. Letting go to stress and the pent up anger he had. Maybe... just maybe it would be the right thing for them both.**   
  
**John focused on Sherlock and saw how close he had moved; even to the point where he could feel Sherlock's soft breathing on his face. Yes he was unsure...but he was here wasn't he? Sleeping in the same bed, even when one was unclothed. It wasn't the first time...and he had a feeling it wouldn't be the last. If he said no, Sherlock would close up and they might not recover for a while...He didn't want that. John inhaled slowly, "Sherlock..." He started and paused seeing Sherlock's eyes. "It's ok...I don't think I want you to stop..."**

* * *

 

_Sherlock's smile faded, into something softer and filled with deep worry. Had he heard John right? He thought so. John didn't want to stop either. But so many boundaries were broken already, why not break a few more? His smiled had vanished completely now and was replaced with his lips parting open slightly. Sherlock knew what he wanted now, he was damn sure. He leaned forward and mashed his lips against John's harshly, taking in his musky scent. Sherlock's hands traveled all over John's body, feeling every curve, every dimple, every line he could feel. It was pure bliss, Sherlock thought. His right hand was pressed up against John's chest, and his left hand was now cupped around the back of John's neck, squeezing softly._   
  
_Warmth flowed through his entire body now and his tongue once again, found its way into John's mouth, running against the ridges of John's upper and lower teeth. Finally, his tongue found John's and he smiled slightly._

* * *

**John saw the instant reaction on Sherlock's face even in the dark. Yet he wasn't sure he expected the kiss so soon, though seeing just how badly Sherlock wanted him, it made sense. After a moment of watching Sherlock press his lips top his own, John closed his eyes and kissed back, letting his lips move with the other man. John felt Sherlock's wandering hand and he couldn't deny the heat of Sherlock's touch, or how his own body reacted to it. John pressed closer to Sherlock, feeling his eyebrow furrow slightly when Sherlock cupped the back of his neck, holding him close. John move one hand to support himself and it just so happened to have grasped Sherlock's knee as the other also pressed against Sherlock's chest. John felt instantly the rapid heartbeat and a small smile tilted his lips and he pressed his tongue against Sherlock's. John's tongue danced with Sherlock's and he had to admit, he was surprised how well Sherlock could kiss. John could feel his body getting hot and loved how Sherlock's fingers curled against his hair.**

* * *

 

_"John.. " He mumbled and now kissed just below John's ear. "I forgot to tell you but.. Mrs. Hudson will be coming soon." Sherlock giggled slightly. He only knew this because of his sleepless nights. Mrs. Hudson would awaken every day at the exact same time, which was exactly 4:39. After getting up, she would trudge upstairs into their flat to clean up a little and usually to peek in on Sherlock. He always knew she did, but he didn't mind. It was caring. But that was how he knew she was on her way. Sherlock nibbled on John's earlobe and he began to feel how hot John had become under his touch. Smiling, he trailed his mouth down and kissed John's collarbone. "I'll hear the door open, and we'll stop. And after she leaves, we'll drink our tea and watch telly."_   
  
_He smiled, knowing that this was probably too much for John. Sherlock thought he was moving too fast, and it was most likely true. But he couldn't get enough. He had waited too long for this and now he was getting his fill. To him, it was unfair anything should get in the way from him getting his John._

* * *

 

**When Sherlock broke the kiss, he left John breathing hard. John inhaled slowly as Sherlock kissed against his ear. John tilted his head slightly, not wanting to admit he liked his neck being kissed...John almost chuckled and he closed his eyes. "Just watch telly?" He said wondering if he would get used to random heated kisses just to be stopped a few moments later. Though, a part of him was grateful of Sherlock cutting it short. John had enjoyed that...more than he ever thought he would. John inhaled slowly feeling Sherlock's lips trailing to his collarbone and this caused his breath to hitch slightly. He didn't realize that his hand was still holding onto Sherlock's knee; all he could think about was the lips against his collar. John shifted slightly and moved his hand from Sherlock's chest and placed it against his neck, his fingers curling in Sherlock's dark curls.**

* * *

 

_"Yes. Unless you wanted to do something else that is?" He smiled at John and threw back the covers. He could now care less about his nudity, even though it was dark and he knew John could not see anything. Sherlock made his way over to his wardrobe and grabbed his robe from the floor, pulling it on. Grabbing some socks from his dresser, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled them on. It was usually cold in the morning, and outside of his bedroom, they had wooden floor. Sherlock wasn't about to risk his feet freezing because Mrs. Hudson didn't want to run the air._   
  
_Sherlock could feel John sitting behind him by the headboard. It was no averting that Sherlock had been turned on. Especially when they kissed the second time. But that's why he had stopped. He didn't want it to escalate more than it had and it was better to wait. Didn't want to have an elderly lady walk in on them._

* * *

 

**Sherlock had pulled away, leaving John sitting there alone. John reclined against the headrest and sighed a bit, until he felt himself coming down from what had just happened. "No...no telly is just fine." He said and glanced briefly at Sherlock who was getting dressed...well at least covered. John looked away and stared at the wall, not sure what to do at the moment. He could hear now, sounds from below and knew the elder women had woken up. "Well...shall I head back to my room before she...." John asked then remembered he had slept there the night before and he wondered if she had seen them then. John rubbed his brow not ready for her to assume anything was going on between them; that is if she didn't already.**

* * *

 

_"She'll catch you." He looked back at John. "Just lay down and I'll go to the kitchen and tell her you had a bad dream or something." Sherlock stood up, walked to the door and exited his bedroom, leaving the door open partially. For once, he was happy. He whistled a happy tune while opening the door and greeting Mrs. Hudson with a peck on the chance. He thought happy thoughts while she sat in John's chair and Sherlock in his as they talked about cases in the past and the ones Sherlock couldn't solve._   
  
_"So.." Sherlock leaned in and cupped his mouth as if to whisper. "I kissed him."_   
_He smiled when Mrs. Hudsons eyebrows raised and a large smile appeared on her face. "Oh, Sherlock! How did it go?" She practically shouted._   
_"Shh, keep your voice down." Sherlock chastised and leaned back slightly. "It was.. bad at first. I wasn't sure whether John wanted it or not. But it turned out he did." He whispered back and sat up straight in his chair, the telly playing faintly as he sipped the tea Mrs. Hudson had made for them. John's was sitting on the table for him when Mrs. Hudson left._   
  
_Going back into the bedroom, he peeked his head in and looked at John. "All clear." Sherlock withdrew his head and walked back to the kitchen, putting some scones onto a tray for them to eat as an early morning snack._

* * *

 

 **John nodded as Sherlock walked out and he laid back down in bed. John took this moment alone to let his mind wander. His thoughts took many turns, about Afghanistan, about his first time meeting Sherlock, about their cases, Jim, Mary. John felt his eyebrows furrow and he closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, pushing until it started to give him a headache. He forced Mary out of his head and then forced his mind to go blank. He didn't want to think about anything.**  
  
 **When Sherlock called him from below, John got off of the bed and walked down the stairs, the light from the flat starting to bother him and glanced at the living room there the telly played some show. He noticed Sherlock was in the kitchen and he walked inside, seeing the tea and scones. John took the cup and took a sip before taking a seat. "Morning..." He said and looked up at the taller man before him.**  

* * *

  _"Goodmorning, John." He smiled and looked at the telly, not purposely avoiding John's gaze but too focused on the stupid show he was watching. "Oh, come on, that's not even scientifically possible!" Sherlock yelled at the telly in anger, but keeping his voice at a medium low. He was sitting in his chair, his feet in the cushion and his arse on the headrest. He usually sat like this when he was thinking, or when he was in an awfully good mood. Sherlock's index finger and middle finger were touching his chin as he elbows leaned on his knees. "So, i forgot to ask when you woke up, how did you sleep? You did wake up very early. And you talk in your sleep by the way. Kept mumbling about Mary. I ignored it though._ "

 

 

* * *

**John didn't pay too much attention to Sherlock's yelling. He was used to this, though was slightly annoyed at Mrs. Hudson when she showed him that crap telly. Yet when Sherlock mentioned that John was talking in his sleep, and calling Mary's name, John stiffened. He started at the scones. He didn't realize that he was. He picked up a pastry and his tea before walking over to his arm chair and took a seat before Sherlock, putting the tea on the side table. "I'm sorry if I kept you awake...though even if my mind isn't as fast as yours, it hardly stops even after I went to bed...It's bothersome. All the things I try to ignore, decided to reply at night." John took a bite and watched Sherlock before glancing at the screen. "Did you even sleep? You'll wear yourself out if you keep staying awake for days on end. When you're on a case it won't do you any good."**

 

* * *

_"I'm fine, John." He snarled and got up to get a scone, then sat back down in his seat, munching on it. It was chocolate chip. "Sorry. I just.. Lestrade texted me and we have a case. So I'm eager to start on it. It's best to get an early start so we don't ruin our dinner plans. I'll be dressed and down in 5 minutes." Taking his phone out of his robe pocket, he looked at it, walking to his bedroom and not watching where he was going. Trudging to his bedroom, Sherlock pulled on a casual suit: white shirt, black jacket and black trousers. Slipping on his shoes and going back to the kitchen, he was still on his phone. "Can you do me a favor on your laptop?" He asked and put his coat on, still not taking his eyes off his phone. Finally, after minutes of being glued to a screen, he looked at John, his eyes filled with excitement and adrenaline._

_He had a case now, and it filled his need up, not more than John could though._

* * *

**John nodded at the mention of a case. He was glad that he changed before coming down. John waited until Sherlock was down stairs and already asking a favor. "Sure." John said and stood up before walking over to the laptop and opening it. He had taken off the password long ago since it meant nothing to Sherlock. John walked over to him and held the minicomputer before him, waiting for Sherlock to tell him what to do with it. "What's the case, Sherlock?" John asked, trying to get Sherlock to snap out of his excited trance.**

* * *

_"Not sure yet. A murder, but not that simple. Can you find the nearest Bakery closest to The Scotland Yard? Or the ones with a 5 mile radius?" He asked and took a seat next to John. "I wouldn't classify this as a 7.. nor a 5. So 6 it has to be. Not too important but there's something strange about it. I'm just not sure yet." He was peering over John's shoulder, looking at how fast John had learned to navigate through the internet. Basically, in simpler terms, he was admiring him. Which he did all the time anyways. Sherlock leaned closer and rested his chin on John's shoulder, smiling. He stole a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up. "Text me what you have, that is, if you're staying here. It's raining quite hard and I assumed you probably wanted to stay in." Popping his coat collar out and ruffling his hair slightly, he slipped his phone from his trouser pocket into his coat pocket. "Do you?" He asked, placing his hand on the doorknob._

* * *

**John nodded and started searching the map. A bakery. Hm. John didn't notice how close Sherlock had lean in until he felt his chin on his shoulder. John glanced at him for a moment before he resumed his search. already two had popped up and then Sherlock kissed his cheek and pulled away and said he was leaving without him. John furrowed his eyebrows and looked over his shoulder at him, "W-wait just a minute." Jon stood up and looked at the laptop. "I don't care about the rain, Sherlock, I'm not letting you go alone." The search finished and John quickly wrote down the names of those exactly 5 miles away. There was on that was 5 1/2 so John wrote it down anyways and closed the laptop, heading after the man. "Alright, let's go." He said and grabbed his own coat pulling it on.**

* * *

_"Alright, then." Sherlock smiled and turned to leave, going down the stairs and out the door to the sidewalk. As soon as he stepped outside, he was knocked to the side by a huge gust of air. He chuckled to himself and took his balance on the black rail that was next to him. "I told you." Sherlock said, looking at John. The rain was hailing; unstoppable. Sherlock's usually voluminous curls now stuck to his forehead and rain droplets settled on his cheek. The color from his face disappeared, and traveled straight to his nose. He was freezing. Sherlock's coat was not enough to keep himself warm, but it didn't matter. He'd be inside the taxi soon. Straightening his arm up at the top his head and doing his magic, he hailed a taxi and motioned for John to get in before him._

* * *

**John raised his arm to block the rain from his eyes. Sherlock was right, the rain was intense. He could see instantly how the elements took effect on Sherlock's face. John locked the door and hurried after him. Being a soldier, John had faced many harsh weather in Afghanistan, so when Sherlock held open the door for him, John wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist and helped him inside the taxi himself. Once he forced Sherlock inside, John got in after him and closed the door. He ran his hand though his hand, sending out the water droplets and he sighed brushing of the arms of his jacket. "Well that was strong. I hope this doesn't effect your case."**

* * *

_"No. No it shouldn't, I believe." Sherlock pulled out his phone again while they were in the cab and fingers began working fast paced, every phalange moving directly and typing out messages, most certainly to Mycroft and Lestrade. "John, can you give the taxi worker the money once we've arrived at the Yard? I don't seem to have my wallet." He took his eyes off of his phone for a second and looked at John, a seemingly blank expression on his face. For a man who had just kissed his best friend, Sherlock had regained composure immediately, acting as if the kissing never happened. It was better this way. He didn't want anyone to know, besides Mrs. Hudson of course. Rumors were spread though, that was inevitable. And there was nothing Sherlock could do to prevent that. He assumed Mycroft had already known; the cameras he had planted in their flat. So, receiving a text from his older brother on the current state of their relationship and the values of sentiment were bound to come sooner or later._

* * *

**John let out a sigh when Sherlock asked him to pay, he wasn't overly surprised. He did this many times. He pulled out his wallet and once they reached the yard, John paid the man. John forced open the door and waited for Sherlock to get out of the cab before they hurried into Scotland Yard. John opened the door and once inside from the harsh wind, he shook off his coat and looked around. He would never get used to this rain and wind. He took a moment and tossed a glance outside the doors and shook his head, "What kind of storm is this?"**

* * *

_"Not sure." He furrowed his brows and looked at John. "Shall we?" Opening the two double doors, he let John go in before him. Once the shorter man was inside, Sherlock followed behind him and their fingers brushed against each others. This was the only sentiment they had until they reached Lestrade's office. Sherlock definitely couldn't show affection here._

_"Ah, Graham!" Sherlock greeted and extended his arm, no smile included. "It's Greg. Just stick to calling me Lestrade." Lestrade retorted back and pulled a bundle of files from a drawer in his desk. "Ok, so here is a-"_

_Sherlock cut him off, smirking as he did. "A list of the previous owner of the bakeries in which the murders may or may not have been involved with. All the same person?" He asked._

_"Well.." Lestrade started, "There's one different name in it and I'm not sure if John should be in here while we discuss this." Lestrade's eyes darted over to John, a wave a sympathy washed over him._

* * *

**John glanced at Sherlock as their fingers touched and he offered a small quick smile. He knew it was the last physical connection they would have while they were in here. He looked away then and walked into Lestrade's office. He shook his head when Sherlock attempted to call Greg by name and messed it up utterly. He took a step to the side and inhaled slowly, hands lancing behind his back as Sherlock placed the paper before the officer. Yet when Lestrade mentioned about a name that he had and that John should remove himself from the room, John felt his heart flip painfully and his eyes grew wider. "What?" He demanded and moved his hand from behind him. He looked at Sherlock and then back to Lestrade. "What name?"**

* * *

_Lestrade took a large sigh before answering. "It seems as if Mary has taken over the bakery about a mile east from here. Seems reasonable though, considering she can keep an eye on the Yard." Lestrade nodded slightly and shoved the papers at Sherlock, forcing him to take them. Before leaving, he stopped next to Sherlock and whispered, barely audible. "She'll do whatever it takes to bring John back. Whether she'll kill you or not, I don't know. Good luck."_

_Sherlock stared at the papers, the words that Lestrade had just said running through his mind like a train. 'Kill you or not' was stuck inside, cycling in repeat like an alarm clock. He had no idea what to say to John, or whether or not he should say anything. This certainly had to have been a huge strike to him. And once again, Sherlock could not think of what to do. He was stuck in a hole and he wasn't sure how to get out._

 

* * *

**John stared at Lestrade in silence as he heard Mary's name. Mary. It felt as if the whole world had gone quiet and John could only hear his own breathing. Mary. What was she doing? After a long paused and an emotionless face, John turned to the door and walked past Sherlock. "Let's solve this, Sherlock." John walked into the hall way and for a moment felt utterly lost. Was it possible Mary could be behind this all? No...it couldn't be. No, he was sure it was just a misunderstanding.**

* * *

_Sherlock stared at John. "Solve the murders or why your wife is keeping an eye on us?" He walked with John until they were outside. The wind had died down a considerable amount and it was now down to a soft breeze. The rain had also left off with just soft drizzle. It fit the tone of the morning perfectly. Looking at his watch, he noticed it was only 15 till 12:00. Turning to John, he took both of the doctors hands in his, then ran his fingers softly over the veins that topped them. Sherlock had always been in love with John's hands. They had seen war, love, fear and so many other things that Sherlock may have only witnessed one time in his life. When he had left John. To him, that was the toughest thing he ever had to do in his entire life. For two years, Sherlock left John alone and afraid, and Sherlock was the same. He was eager to return, but returning to all of this drama and John's lying ex wife was not what he expected._

* * *

**John cleared his throat and looked at Sherlock when he stroked his hands. John's eyes lingered down and watched them for a moment before inhaling slowly. "The murder...but she is on my list. I can do that one alone though. I rather you not be involved with that conversation. I don't know why she would be watching out for us, because she divorced me." John pulled his hands from Sherlock as gently as he could. He didn't want Sherlock to think he was mad at him, but needed to think for a moment. He looked up at the sky and was thankful to see the storm had slowed down. "Perhaps I should go speak to her now..." He said and glanced at Sherlock.**

* * *

_Sherlock stared at John for an incredibly long time, his pale blue eyes investigating every bit of want and dejection that surfaced in John's aged face. He knew John was serious, and there'd be no stopping him talking to Mary. Nodding his head silently, his dark curls bobbing in front of his forehead, he looked at the street. "You may. But know, if anything goes wrong, I'll find out. I always do. How do you think I came back?" Sherlock smiled, but deep inside he was strangely hurt that John didn't want to investigate the murders with him. Oh well, he thought. He's used to working alone so this wouldn't be any different from before he met John. "I'll see you back at the flight. Don't forget dinner."_

* * *

**John nodded and glanced at Sherlock, "I won't be long. I'll find you when I'm done and then we'll continue with the case." John reached over and brushed one of the wet curls from Sherlock's pale eyes. "Be careful ok?" He said before turning around and walking down the side walk, heading for Mary's bakery.**

**It took John less than ten minutes to reach her store and he opened the door walking in. The store was very quaint and was decorated in soothing browns and gold's. A counter sat before him filled with all kinds of pastries. Hearing the little bell ring when John opened the door, he heard Mary's voice come from the back room, "I'll be right with you." John faltered for a moment but stood there silently until she walked out and saw him. "John?"**

**He slipped his hands into his jacket pocket. "What are you doing here Mary?"**  

* * *

_Sherlock put his head back once he was in the cab and sighed deeply. Bringing it back up, he told the man to stop immediately, knowing he didn't have his wallet. The man let him out, angrily, but still let him out all the same. The fee would've been higher if he had kept going to Baker Street. But he was grateful the cab driver let him out. It wasn't long to reach his flat, so he walked. Not like he had a choice anyways. Looking at his feet the entire way, he smiled to himself, knowing John would have that situation taken care of, and he could take care of his own. Sherlock would have to confiscate John's laptop of course, to do a bit of research on his own. And afterwards, John would presumably be home on time, unless his conversation with Mary took longer than expected. Sherlock smiled more. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, he'd get the chance to kiss John again. But he frowned. He frowned walking up to the steps of his flat, he frowned closing the door behind him, and he frowned opening John's computer. John didn't seem to eager to hold his hands when Sherlock had taken that approach. Maybe John wanted to forget all about it, he thought._

* * *

**John watched as Mary looked at him and seemed to think of an answer, "What do you mean. This is my store John."**   
**John inhaled carefully thinking of what to tell her. "You know what I mean. Why are you in this area?"**   
**She watched him and shifted, "What do you want me to say, John?"**   
**"The truth maybe?"**   
**She smiled with no hint of happiness and looked away shrugging. "I didn't want to divorce you John. But you and Sherlock, I didn't want to have to fight for your attention."**   
**John returned a similar smile and looked away, looking at the decor. "But you still handed me the papers. I was going to work it out the best I could. You did this."**   
**"No John, you did. You did this when you let him back in! He took you from me." Mary stressed and threw what she was holding on the counter.**   
**John shook his head with his lips tight, "No Mary, you did this to us. And that's it. It's over. I don't know why you are here; no I do. You're here to spy on us both and you need to stop. We are done; you and I. You need to back away." John turned and headed to the door and Mary called out after him.**   
**"No John, we are not done! Tell Sherlock to watch his back because this is not finished!"**   
**John faced her again and walked over to the counter and rested his hands on it, "This is done because I am finishing it. My best friend came back from the dead, I was not going to abandon him. I was trying to work it out for the three of us. You handed me the divorce papers. I got on my knees and begged for you to stay but you walked away. This is done." John inhaled slowly, "don't you threaten Sherlock, Mary. Don't you dare. I won't let you." Then John turned away and walked out. As he stepped onto the sidewalk, he flagged down the closest taxi and a few minutes later was dropped off at 221b. He paid the cabbie and walked into the flat, heading to the main living room.**

* * *

_Sherlock heard the familiar footsteps coming up the stairs and he froze, then quickly ran his fingers through his hair and ruffled it slightly. He hadn't expected John to be home so early. Unusual, he thought. An argument with Mary could last for hours, but Sherlock knew this short meeting between her and John was only the beginning of Sherlock's fate. She was going to plan something, and he knew it. Now all he could do was prepare. Looking towards the door, he watched John walk in the door and he smiled softly. "That was awfully quick? What happened?" Sherlock walked from the couch, sitting down in his chair and sipping the cup of tea he had made for himself. He eyed John up and down, trying to predict his mental state and prepare himself for his presumable anger. Every time John would think about Mary, or if someone would mention her around him, he would hypothetically light on fire with rage and go into an insult spitting rage. No matter who was around him, it was usually Sherlock, he'd say whatever came to mind. Sherlock cautiously sipped his drink and kept silent until John was ready to answer, whenever that was._

* * *

**John looked around the room, already feeling himself get tense. His eyes locked on Sherlock and something flared inside him. John shook his head and looked away trying to find something to distract him. He already yelled at Sherlock and he didn't want to do it again but the nerve of that woman... threatening Sherlock. John ran his hand though his hair and closed his eyes trying hard to contain himself. "Give me a second." John said and walked out of the flat again. He stepped outside and noticed it started to rain a little bit harder. John stood silently in the slightly down pour, the cold water helping him cool down. After five or so minutes, John walked back inside and took off his jacket. He walked over to Sherlock and without even thinking, took Sherlock's chin and titled it up before kissing his lips deeply. After the kiss, John slowly pulled away and looked into his eyes. "I'm...sorry..." He released his chin and stood up straight and sighed, "Kissing you seemed...right after all that with Mary...." Was all he could think of to say.**

 

* * *

_Sherlock blushed softly and rubbed his forehead with his hand. "O-oh.." He couldn't help the smile that came to his face and he chuckled slightly, taking John's hand in his. "Why did you think it was appropriate?" He said, as his lips traveled over to John's neck. Sherlock had no intention of getting intimate with John, but he knew he loved to watch John's skin crawl with goosebumps whenever Sherlock's lips came in contact with John's golden skin. Smiling, he took his other hand and ran it up along John's back, using only his fingertips and his nails to create a rather blissful feeling for John. Sherlock's body temperature increased finally and he brought his mouth next to John's ear. "It's getting a little stuffy in here." He purred._

* * *

**John felt his eyes close when Sherlock moved his lips over to his neck. "A...appropriate?" He asked, almost as if had forgotten everything except the feeling of Sherlock's lips moving over his neck. John didn't want to admit how much he loved that, but it was hard to hide it when his body reacted so much to it all. John couldn't help but arch slightly when Sherlock's nails went over his back and then his lips found John's ears. "Ah..." John nodded in agreement at the stuffy remark, but he honestly didn't want Sherlock to stop. He was too stressed out with Mary. Seeing the look in her face when she threatened Sherlock...John knew how right then and there he would do absolutely anything to protect Sherlock.**

* * *

_Sherlock smiled as he took John's short hair into his fingers, tugging slightly and his plush lips wandered over John's neck. "I can tell you're stressed, John. Sit down, relax." He spoke, slowly and lovingly as he ushered John over to his usual sitting chair. Once John was situated comfortably, Sherlock moved behind him and removed his jumper, revealing only his undershirt he had on. Sherlock removed his black gloves and began to press down into John's shoulder blades, working his thumbs rhythmically as they dug into the ex-soldier's back. Making sure his nails were out of the way, Sherlock began to rub in circles, moving along both edges of his spine and smiling as he saw the heat rise from John's neck up towards his nose and ears. Blushing, he thought. Sherlock smiled._

* * *

**John took a seat and closed his eyes letting Sherlock rub his shoulders. John tried to relax on his own, but Sherlock's hands helped him more than he could have on his own. Finally he sighed softly and his shoulders slumped and looked over at the man. "I need you to be careful ok? Promise me you will keep an eye out...and please stay away from Mary." John looked away and rested his head in his hand.**

* * *

_Sherlock merely nodded and let go of John's shoulders. "Well, we have time to kill before dinner so I'm going to compose a bit." He patted John's shoulders before going off to find his violin. It'd been awhile so he played; it was covered with smidgens of dust and smelled faintly of rain and dirt. It wasn't an unattractive smell, but it did show Sherlock needed to pay more attention to his instruments. This thought made him think of John._

* * *

**John watched him silently and shifted before clearing his throat. "What about the case? Don't we have to find out about the murder." John rubbed his eyelids. "I don't know anything about this case or even who the murder killed." John stood up and walked over to the window and rubbed his hair slightly. "Do you know anything Sherlock?"**  

* * *

_"I know a bit, actually. I know the owner deliberately sold those bakeries in order to shake us. I know it failed. I also know it's a male who's homosexual and he has only one lover who helped in the murders. I know right after his lover left him for a woman; he's presumably bisexual." He turned to John, his eyes alight with adrenaline. "I know he moved from England to France and he's now in hiding. Also, Mary had nothing to do with the murders, I just assume she wants to kill me for her own." Sherlock now walked over to the double windows and faced them, the dim light shining in his eyes, sparkling like magic. "I know all of that." He said finally, but sighing heavily and picking up his violin to play a melancholy tune for John. It fit the mood perfectly, he thought. Depressing, but he wouldn't have rather played a happy tune. Happiness was just a defect in the human body. A chemical reaction that meant nothing._

* * *

**John was about to ask how he knew so much, even about the murder's sexual orientation but he stopped himself. If anyone would have known, it was Sherlock. He shook his head and nodded. "Ok, so we are looking for a homosexual male; who is going through a breakup. Someone who might have a French accent." John then looked up sharply when Sherlock mentioned how Mary might want to kill him and again stopped himself from asking he knew. John walked over to him as the man played the violin listening to the downhearted sound. John rested his head against Sherlock's back and then wrapped his arms around the thin man's waist. "She made mention of that...Sherlock I won't allow her to hurt you." John closed his eyes and recalled Mary's face, the anger in her eyes when she threatened Sherlock. He couldn't let her hurt him...but he prayed it did not go to that. If she put John in a situation like that he would like to think he could settle it without force...could he physically stop Mary? John inhaled deeply and released Sherlock and moved over to his side. He slipped his hands into his pockets and inhaled slowly.**  

* * *

_Sherlock inhaled sharply, turning around swiftly. "Yes! Coffee would be good. We must get to this." And with that, Sherlock sat down with the computer after confiscating John's laptop once more from the table. "So. Think. We need a way to infiltrate his home in France without being detected." Sherlock furrowed his brows and stared at the computer intently. His clicks led him to Google Earth, as he zoomed in and zoomed out on small and large buildings. "He's not extremely wealthy, so I'd assume he'd be living in maybe an apartment or a single housing complex. But I'm not certain. Our best bet is to ask Mycroft. We both know very well that he has eyes everywhere." Looking from the computer towards John, his mouth stretched into a wide smile, revealing utterly and completely perfect teeth. "What do you think?"_

* * *

**John nodded at the comment about the coffee. He started to brew them a batch and pulled out the crème and the sugar. He didn't take sugar but Sherlock did and John took a little bit of crème. He smiled at the one of many differences there was between them. When it finished, John poured them a cup and made them to their likings. When he walked over to the other man, he rolled his eyes when he saw Sherlock using his computer; but rather than say anything, he simply placed the coffee beside Sherlock and took a seat next to him. "What? Seriously? In France?" John took a sip of his drink and leaned in slightly before catching Sherlock's toothy grin. "Sure, I'll text your brother then." He leaned back in his seat and pulled out his phone before sending the man a message.**

* * *

_"Thank you." Sherlock returned to the computer and his smile faded away. John, to him, didn't seem very happy at the moment. Looking at his watch, he noticed time had gone by quite a bit and it was nearing 5. Debating whether to remind John about their dinner reservations, Sherlock stood up, heading to the bathroom to bide his time. Before opening the door, he turned his head and grabbed his coffee from John. "I'll be in the shower." Turning the knob, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, not bothering to lock it. It didn't matter to him. Taking a small sip of his drink, he turned on the bath water and removed all of his clothes, looking at himself in the mirror. Sherlock was withering away, slowly. His deprivation of food had finally reached his inner core, and in return, it fired back on him and he was thinner. His natural muscles were still visible of course, it was beautiful, but his complexion had become finer and the veins in his arms and neck were straining out. He desperately needed help. Someone to control him and to reign him in the right direction. And that someone had their own problems and couldn't be bothered with Sherlock's. So, turning his gaze from the mirror to the water and taking one more sip of his coffee, he stepped in, noticing the water was a little too hot, but the tub was already full. Once his entire body was in, he put his head back, relaxing his long legs down the length of the porcelain tube._

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for continuing to read this! sorry that this one isn't britpicked and i didn't reread it thoroughly. I've been watching some bids on a game called Gaia and so this one was kind of rushed. Sorry! Try to enjoy anyways and let me know if there's anything I could change.
> 
> P.S: if any of you guys are losers on Gaia, like, add me @Cumberbooty

**John looked up when Sherlock went off to bathe and then he remembered their dinner date. John rubbed his eyes as he stood up and walked to his room. He will wash up later. Sherlock was known for taking long baths, so he could always take his after. John opened his room and walked in and over to the closet before picking out something nice from the closet. He wasn't sure what Sherlock had in mind about their dinner, so he dressed in something a bit more formal than the normal did but nothing out of normal. He ran his fingers over his hair, combing it back into place before he added some cologne. He knew there was a certain kind that Sherlock liked. Not that he actually verbalized it, but he recalled Sherlock always inhaling the scent of it when ever John wore it. So he sprayed it on before looking himself over the mirror. He looked fine. He turned out of the room and walked back over to the arm rest and took a seat, mindlessly turning on the telly and scanning the channels, waiting for Sherlock.**

 

_Sherlock began to lather his body with some fine soap, and afterwards, he worked on his hair. After washing all the soap out, he leaned back and trailed a damp rag over his eyes to elude him of all his problems. Spending about approximately 15 minutes more in the tub, he finally unplugged the cork and stepped out, letting himself drip onto the rug. Grabbing the towel from the sink, he ran it through his hair wildly, and then proceeded to wrap it around his waist. Sherlock stood in front of the mirror again and admired the way his body glistened with the droplets. He turned and then grabbed the knob to the door, opening it and stepping out, turning and looking at John. "Ah, you remembered!' He smiled and walked towards him. "So, i was thinking a little bit."_

 

**"Course I remembered." John said as he went to stand up, but seeing Sherlock still in a towel, John remained seated and just turned off the telly. "You were thinking?" John said as he let his hazel eyes wander over Sherlock and for the first time he realized just how thin he was. John's eyebrows furrowed and he shifted in his seat. The man before him was always lean and slender but this was too much. John shook his head slightly and mentally yelled at himself for not noticing this before.**

 

 _"Yes. Thinking." He retorted. "Thinking about France." Sherlock lifted his hand and wiped one of his brows to rid it of the dripping water. "We'll have to go relatively soon, so I'll worry about the prices of the hotels and such, but we should get a decently good one." He smiled shortly and leaned down, kissing John on the forehead. "Is that okay?" Sherlock rarely checked with John if anything was okay with him. He usually just went with the flow and did whatever he wanted. No moral conscience at all. But now that he knew John had some sort of feelings for him, he wanted to make him happy. And make sure that he never left._  
  
His lips never left John's forehead, even as he was thinking. Sherlock never even really noticed this, but when he did, he immediately pulled back and was quickly embarrassed. A blush rose across his face and even on his upper chest.

 

**John looked up, shocked he was asked if it was alright. John nodded and reached over for his phone. "I could get the plane tickets..." He started when Sherlock leaned down and kissed his forehead. John closed his eyes, his body freezing when the lips touched his head and for a moment he wondered why the man lingered there. John started to reach for him but then he pulled away and out of his reach. John's hand lowered slightly, his eyes moving across Sherlock. "It's fine. It's all fine. We can pack now, and then head out after dinner." He said and stood up slowly. "Are you ok?" John then added.**

 

_"Yes.. yes, I'm fine." Sherlock exclaimed. "I'll get dressed." He smiled again quickly, but falsely, and turned to go to his bedroom. Once inside, he opened his drawers and put on one of his finest suits and shoes. Standing in front of the mirror, he buttoned up his shirt and tied his tie. Sitting down on the bed, Sherlock began to tie his shoes. After he was done, he exited the room and joined John once more. "No, we can pack when we get home. It's easier. And for once, I am hungry." Chuckling slightly, his left hand reached for John's and he grabbed it. "I'm sorry for being.. so affectionate, I presume you'd call it. It's not me and I'm not used to being like this and.. I'm just not sure on what to do." Looking down at the floor, he sighed._

**John furrowed his eyebrows when Sherlock left. John remained standing there and shifted, not sure what to say or do at this point. When he returned and took his hand, apologizing for being affectionate, John shook his head; "Don't apologize." He felt something was happening here, and it worried him. Sherlock never acted like this. Ever. He didn't like it. Something was happening to Sherlock. John laced their fingers and walked to the door, not letting Sherlock's hand go. Sherlock always took control of situations. He always seemed to know what to do and how to do it, but right now, John did not want him to have control. He wanted it. John headed outside, still holding Sherlock's hand. They walked out and John rose his free hand, hailing a Taxi. When it pulled up, he opened the door for Sherlock and looked at him. "Come on, let's get dinner."**

 

_Smiling, Sherlock got into the cab with John, not unlacing their fingers. As he sat on the cold leather, the smile never faded from his face. His heart inside of his chest beat rapidly and for once, he was extremely happy. Happier he had even been with someone. Even when he was a kid with Redbeard, he couldn't recall having this much bliss in his life. Everything was peaceful. Except for Mary of course. Mary would have to be dealt with of course; she had to be. She was too much a threat to their wonderful life and she would obviously get in the way._

 

**John took a seat inside and told the cabbie which restaurant to head to. John held onto to Sherlock's hand, his thumb lightly rubbing against it. John took a moment to think everything over. He wasn't sure what everyone would think about them, but when it came down to Sherlock, he didn't care. Sherlock meant the world to him, as a friend and possibly as a lover. John could feel something happening with Sherlock, something deep within and up until now, he had been missing it all. He shifted silently and looked at the man at his side. He would keep him safe and together.**  
  
 **It took close to half an hour for them to reach the restaurant and John paid the cabbie. He opened the door and assisted, Sherlock to exit as well. Still not releasing his hand, and ignoring the glances they received, John walked inside the building called: Dinner by Heston Blumenthal. He glanced at the 5 star restaurant and wondered for a moment just how hard his wallet will take a beating, but one more glance at Sherlock, John headed to the receptionist.**  
  
 **"Name?" she asked looking up at them.**  
  
 **"Watson, John Watson." John said firmly.**  
  
 **She looked at the name and nodded. "Follow me." She said and had them led to a two seater table.**

 

_Sherlock kept a straight face as they entered the restaurant together. He'd always received strange looks his whole life from people, so he was used to it. But knowing most of them were staring at John, his anger had began to surge back into his body and his face started to heat up. Clenching his fists beside him as they walked, he shot menacing stares at every person who dared to look their way. Still following the woman, he noticed the restaurant was less crowded then he had thought it would be. Probably because no one could afford it, he thought. Sherlock decided to help John out with the bill, it'd be rude not to. After all, they share a flat together and help with the bills anyways. Eventually, the woman stopped and Sherlock pushed back a seat for John, allowing him to sit. Once John was situated, Sherlock took a seat himself and looked at John. It was quiet for quite some time while they both looked at the menus, but eventually Sherlock spoke up. "I just wanted to say thank you. For taking me, I mean. Although it was my idea." He smirked and hid his face with the menu. Of course. Sherlock always had to be the winner, although he had thanked John for something, which was now a beginning habit of something he really needed to do. Just for John at least_

 

**John took his seat and glanced at Sherlock as he sat as well. John nodded as he picked up the menu and started to look at the food, noticing there was no price on any of them. Meant everything was expensive, but regardless... "Well, you might have had the idea to take us, but I will not let you pay. I snuck your wallet out of your pocket when you weren't paying attention. I watched you take things from Lestrade so I had a lot of practice." John looked at him over his menu and gave him a sly smile and then turned back to his menu. "Order what you like." As long as this made Sherlock happy, he didn't care about the price.**

 

_"Oh, you sneaky bastard!" Sherlock laughed out loud and sat back in his chair, folding his hands above his knees. "I can't believe I didn't notice. And I notice everything." He wagged his finger at John. "Next time, I'll catch you. And I'll punish you." Sherlock smirked and began to look at his menu, running his gloved finger over the smooth plastic. "I won't be having harsh alcohol, by the way. We both know where that leads." Right as he said that, the waiter had come over. He looked about 19 or 20, just beginning in the food business or maybe just aiming to make money off of good tips and good service. Sherlock smiled briefly and looked through the wine menu. "I'll have... Lambrusco Spumante." He said, looking at the young man_

 

**John laughed at Sherlock's comment and smiled brightly. He watched Sherlock and wondered if he was telling the truth. But after a thought, he came to the conclusion that he was and would simply feel proud of himself for doing so. He never caught Sherlock off guard like that before and he was happy about it...unless it was bad news...**

**John looked up at the young waiter and smiled at him. "I'll have the same wine."**  
 **The young man glanced at them both before smiling and nodded. "Two Lambrusco Spumante. I'll be back with your wine in a moment." He turned around and walked off.**  
 **John put the menu down and let his eyes move over Sherlock's face.**  

 

 _Sherlock was staring at his phone, his eyes scanning the screen. "You know," he said finally, not looking up, "It'll be nice to get away. I mean from all this drama and everything." Putting his phone into his pocket, he looked up at John and put his hands on the table, notioning for John to give Sherlock his hands. "And I'm glad I'll be able to spend it with you." He smiled softly and tapped two of his fingers on the table, song-like. He loved that John and him were closer now. The fact that they weren't having their usual dinner at Angelo's was strange, but at least they were together. And this was sort of a date, Sherlock thought. He hadn't been on a date in a long time. In fact, Sherlock was pretty sure the last time he'd been on a date was for a case._  
Like usual.

**John watched him silently, wondering just what he was doing on that phone but he didn't ask. If he needed to know, Sherlock would tell him. John then reached over and placed his hands in Sherlock's and looked into his blue eyes. "Yes, I am too." He looked around then as the waiter returned with their wine. John withdrew his hands from the table and the young boy reached over and took the wine glasses before pouring in the wine and placing it before them. "Are we ready to order?" He asked. "Yes," John said and glanced at the young man. "I'll have the Roast Halibut." He said and then looked at Sherlock.**

 

_"I'll have the filet mignon." Smiling at John and then looking at the waiter, Sherlock handed the menus over to the young man and resumed holding John's hands in his. Rubbing both of his thumbs over the doctors hands, he studied everything about him. Every wrinkle, every vein, every indent you could think of. To Sherlock, he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes on. But he'd never tell him that. Not knowing how John would react to how much Sherlock had been completely consumed by him for the past 4 years; this scared Sherlock and he'd have been the type of person to hide his feelings. Although now, something inside of him clicked and he had wanted to desperately to shout his feelings out for John where everyone could hear. But it was inappropriate in this case. Looking up at John's face, he opened his mouth to speak, "John?"_

 

**John allowed Sherlock to take one of his hands once more but he reached over and picked up the wine before taking a sip. He could feel Sherlock watching him. Sherlock was always studying people, studying him. But now he felt as if there was something else underline his recent studies. Sometimes he could see a lingering smile and he hoped that Sherlock was pleased with his readings. When the man spoke his name, John looked at him and lowered the glass. "Hm?" He said, raising his eyebrows in that certain way that he did. "Yes, Sherlock?" He asked looking again into those pale blue eyes.**

 

_Sherlock leaned back in his chair and folded his hands again. "I need to ask you something." Taking a small sip of his wine, he closed his eyes and relished in the liquid. He had said he wouldn't get drunk, but sometimes it was better not to be sober. Especially in this kind of situation. "I need.. to know your feelings. Whether or not if you actually feel. I don't want to be the only bloody person sitting here completely obsessed with the other person, and then discover the other person feels nothing back." The anger had arisen in Sherlock and his face turned red, along with the clenching of his glass to increase. His fingertips were white and his jaw tightened. Whatever the answer was going to be, Sherlock somewhat did not look forward to finding out what he really meant to John. Although he could be wrong._  
  
  
 **John inhaled slowly and listened to Sherlock. He knew this question would come and to be honest, he wasn't 100 percent sure where he stood in this all. John straightened up and his eyes found the table and he sat there silently sorting everything out. After a long pause, he inhaled carefully and his eyes met Sherlock's. Well his eyes were still closed, so John simply watched the man's facial expressions. "I am not going to lie. I am uncertain still about this all. But you mean more to me than I can express. I know you can read everything about me, but I am sure you don't know just how much you mean to me, what I'm willing to do for you. You are my world, Sherlock, and I love you more than anything. It wasn't until recently I realized that maybe the love I felt for you could be different; a different kind of love. You and me...there is something between us. I can't deny it. Almost as if it makes sense...This goes against my principals but in all honesty, Sherlock, I am willing to push it aside for you. I am willing and wanting. I want to." He said nodding his head, knowing the words to be true. "Sherlock. I love you. I hope one day I can express just how much I love you and how dead I was when I thought you died. I cannot go though that again."**  


_Smiling, Sherlock looked down at his lap and he chuckled softly. "Thank you for being honest. It wouldn't have worked if you had lied anyways, you know I can tell." He looked up and his eyes were slightly red. There were few times Sherlock would show his emotion, but he had just sat there while his best friend told him he loved him and he hadn't really known how to handle this. But he knew it was coming. Continuing to smile. he laughed again and looked up at the ceiling. "I can honestly said I'd never have expected you to say that to me. And I'm unsure as well. But I guess we'll just have to go along with it, yes?" As soon as he finished his sentence, the waiter had arrived with more wine and filled both of their glasses 3/4's. Sherlock immediately grabbed the glass and downed almost half of it. He needed it. Looking to his side, he looked at the dinner rush of people that were beginning to flood the room; all in their fancy tuxedos and dresses. Yet here John and Sherlock were: John wearing maybe one of his nicest outfits but he was still plain compared to the bombardment of upper class people. After quite some time, the waiter had returned with their food and set each of the plates down in front of them. Just looking at it made Sherlock hungry, which he rarely was.  
_

 

**John smiled when he saw the emotion across Sherlock's face. Emotion was rare on him and didn't sit overly well on his face, but John loved it. He liked seeing the different sides of Sherlock and wished Sherlock would trust him enough to fully open up. The doctor smiled though, when Sherlock aid he was happy to hear all that and John reached across the table and squeezed his hand comfort-fully. John glanced around seeing the restaurant had slowly started to fill up and he shifted uncomfortably, hoping Sherlock wasn't too embarrassed at John's obviously underdressed state. John shifted and suddenly something caught his eye. He looked sharply over at a young man who wore a Westwood suit. Normally this would have not made any impact on John since John could honestly care less about fashions but Westwood hit him hard. He looked away as memories flooded into his mind and he looked up at Sherlock almost timidly. He opened his mouth to speak but the food came and silenced the doctor.**   


 

_Sherlock looked at the food before him and he immediately dug into it, but he had noticed John was staring at someone. "John? Are you alright?" He had said, his mouth half full with delicious morsels of food. Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he had reached across the table with his free hand and rubbed against John's arm with his thumb. "You look as if something is bothering you." Sherlock's worried face had appeared. His eyebrows furrowed, his jaw tightened and his whole body began to feel heavy with the amount of tension that was unraveling. There was this look in Johns eyes. Usually, his eyes were bright and happy, and Sherlock thought he could even see a sparkle in them, but now, now they were dull and he traced a hint of hear hidden inside of them._

 

 **John held his glance, watching Sherlock until he saw from the corner of his eyes that the young man had walked off. A part of him felt guilty for feeling so afraid right then, or the fear of Moriarty's return. Sherlock faked his death, so it was completely possible that Jim could have also. John felt his heart throb painfully as he suddenly was hit with the memory of Sherlock jumping from the building. John put his head in his hand and inhaled slowly. He looked up quickly and shook his head, "Nothing. Noting is bothering me." He was overreacting. That was all. Moriarty had put a bullet in his head. You cannot fake that. John looked around slowly as if he was making himself come to terms that they were ok in this building. John looked at Sherlock and smiled for him, "I'm ok...just remembering something I didn't want to remember." John looked at is food and started to eat hoping he could move past it all; yet in the back of his mind Jim's face lingered.**    
  
  
 _"Apparently you haven't caught on that I can tell when you're lying." Sherlock turned and looked around the room, trying to find the man John had been staring. Having not succeeded, he turned back and ate more of his food. "But.. it is your choice whether to tell me or not. You can tell me if you like, you know I won't be too mean." He smiled slightly and took another sip of his drink. Sherlock had begun to feel a little more relaxed then, but some of the tension was still there, from when John didn't to tell him what was wrong. After a couple minutes, he had finished his entire plate, with the exception of the vegetables Sherlock refused to eat. He pushed them to the corner of his plate and poked and prodded at them with his fork. Disgusting, he thought.  
  
_ **John was silent for a moment as he chewed his food. After one bite, John lowered the fork and looked down at his plate. He didn't want to lie to Sherlock, nor did he want to hold in his fear. It was a real fear for him, Moriarty. The devil himself. "Westwood." John said, his eyes not moving. "The man was wearing a Westwood suit." John inhaled and furrowed his eyebrows, his forehead wrinkling. "He wore Westwood... I'm afraid he's not dead. Before I met you I used to wake up every night from nightmares of war and Afghanistan. Now it's him. I fear walking into your room at night and see him standing by your bed. To see his eyes on us, any sign of him. I know you reminded me before, no one can survive a bullet like that but Sherlock...you came back." John looked at him slowly and shook his head. "He can too." John noticed Sherlock pushing the vegetables away and John smiled and chuckled a bit, "Eat them. You are too thin. Eat them and I'll give you a kiss tonight."  
  
** _ **"** John.. I've told you time and time before, there's nothing to worry about." Sherlock continued to eye his vegetables with refusal. "And I don't want to eat my damn vegetables, they're gross." He smiled, and then frowned, looking at John. "Can't I just have a kiss anyways?" Smirking, he turned and waved the waiter over and asked for more wine to be put into his glass. Once it was nearly full, Sherlock stuck up his hand, initializing the young man to stop. He walked away and Sherlock held the glass in his hand, studying it. "Because.. I really would, and I mean really, like a kiss from you again. Maybe more one day. If you're up to it, of course." He teased and sipped from his glass, then licked his lips to rid them of the remaining liquid. He wasn't drunk, no, but the alcohol had soothed him a bit. Made him a bit more comfortable to say certain things without worrying about whether they'd come out the wrong way or if John would misinterpret them. **  
  
**_ **John's fear wasn't put to rest but he did not argue with Sherlock. He continued to eat and shake his head at the man before him when he turned down the vegetables. "Eat them and I'll sit on your lap when we kiss." And to sweeten the deal, John added, "Shirtless. But only if you eat every single one of them." John took a sip of his wine and watched the man. "If you don't, you aren't getting any of that...until this case is over." John hoped that would seal the deal as he finished his own plate and drank all of the wine. All he wanted was for Sherlock to eat them...though this was amusing he had to admit.**  
  
 _"Hmm.. kisses with John Watson whilst half naked? I think I'll have to take you up on that offer." Sherlock smirked and forked a vegetable into his mouth. "Do i have to eat all of them?" He whined and winced at the taste of them. They weren't that bad, but he still had harsh feelings towards vegetables. He started to remember how when him and Mycroft were little, Mycroft would always eat Sherlock's vegetables so he didn't have to. Smiling, he took another bite and washed away the taste with his wine, sticking his tongue out at John. Sherlock was seriously considering having a little fun with John tonight, but he'd had no idea how it would go, or if John wouldn't want to after awhile. After all, they were so used to being best friends that this might ruin what they had or what they could have.  
  
_ **John chuckled and nodded. "Yes Sherlock, I said all of them." He smiled at him fondly watching the childish faces he made when he ate them. John reclined in his seat and waved over the waiter to have his glass of wine filled and then took a sip when he walked away. John held the glass close to his lips as he watched Sherlock eat them one by one. He tried not to let his eyes wander, wanting only to see Sherlock and no one else around him.  
  
 _  
  
_** _Sherlock finally shoveled down the the last vegetable and waved the waiter over, asking for the check. "Are you ready to go, John?" He asked and wiped his lips with his napkin before setting it on his plate. He smiled at John and his face began to turn red again knowing what awaited them at their flat. It was no secret Sherlock was scared; he'd have no idea what to do once they got there. It was literally probably his first time being half intimate with someone he actually cared for. The other were cases, obviously. He never enjoyed those.  
  
_ **John smiled and nodded as he waited for the check. When it was brought to him, he glanced at the check and he winced. Yet he put cash down enough to cover the check and a tip. John stood up and pulled on his jacket before looking at Sherlock. "Let's go home." He said and when they were ready, he led them outside and waved down a taxi. John took a step forward when the taxi stopped before them and he opened the door for Sherlock. John got in after him and the taxi drove to 221B Baker street. Finally John opened the door and helped Sherlock out of the car and paid the taxi driver. He made their way to the door and unlocked it heading in after Sherlock. John looked around and inhaled slowly once he stood inside the living room. He turned and faced Sherlock with a small pink tint on his cheeks.  
  
** _Sherlock shrugged off his coat and laid it gently on the couch. He exhaled through his mouth and looked around the flat. "So.. how do you go about starting this?" He blushed madly and hid his face by looking away from John. His foot started tapping impatiently and he pushed his fingers through his hair, adjusting the way it settled unto his forehead. "Because.. as we both know, I'm not very good at these. Or starting them. Or doing anything for that matter." Laughing slightly, Sherlock reached out and grabbed John's hands, stringing them around the detective's neck. "Like this?" He asked, stuttering a bit because he was incredibly nervous.  
  
_ **John chuckled at Sherlock's nervousness. He hadn't seen him like this much, nervous about human contact or romantic contact. John let Sherlock move his arms around his neck and John looked into Sherlock's eyes before nodding. "It's a start..." John carefully walked Sherlock backwards until he plopped back onto the couch. John looked down at him, his legs on either side of Sherlock's knees, searching his eyes as he ran his fingers up Sherlock's neck. John leaned down and kissed his jaw line gently. He let his lips move up and down Sherlock's skin as he breathed gently against him as his other hand ran up Sherlock's chest and then started to run back down, unbuttoning a few of the top buttons. John's lips caressed Sherlock's chin before planting soft kisses on his skin before he slowly sank down and sat on Sherlock's lap and he carefully whispered, "just let me lead Sherlock...you don't have to always be in control..."** ** _  
_** **  
  
** _Sherlock said nothing back, only shuddered underneath John's touch. It was so completely gentle, but at the same time it was possessive. Like Sherlock knew John was making the detective his. All his. A small groan escaped his throat and he blushed madly, closing his eyes and running his fingers through John's hair. He had felt the buttons on his shirt pop, and he knew his pale skin had been exposed. Shuddering again, he smirked and his lips touched John's clothed neck, nipping a bit at the part below his shoulder. His breath came in small rasps, as his adrenaline picked up and he finally came to a decision about what he wanted. Sherlock Holmes wanted John Watson. Moving his hands downward, he grabbed onto Johns waist and pushed him down slightly, another groan releasing from the back of his mouth.  
 **  
**_ **John closed his eyes as he felt Sherlock's hands in his hair and his breath over him. He moved his lips over to Sherlock's now exposed neck and he started to kiss him over and over as his hand continued to unbutton Sherlock's shirt. He felt Sherlock's hands grip his waist and pull him down harder on his lap and a groan escaped Sherlock. John reached down and undid his own shirt before sliding it off his body. A part of him felt unsure about this but he promised. Sitting on Sherlock's lap no shirtless, John leaned forward and pressed his chest against Sherlock's and he rocked against Sherlock's lap. John's lips moved up the man's neck and down to his collar bone where he nipped gently against him. "Mm...Sherlock..."** _ **  
  
  
**_ _"J-John.. is this right?" Sherlock asked in between rugged breaths. "You.. seem.. tense.." His words faded out and he found himself lost in John's golden skin. All of a sudden, Sherlock's every urge took control, and one minute he was kissing John, and the next, he was shoving John on his back onto the couch, Sherlock straddling his waist. His hands were running up and down his chest, feeling everything he could. Even though just a minute ago, he wasn't sure whether this was okay or not, but now, he could care less. Promising himself he wouldn't go all the way, Sherlock leaned down and kissed John's chest tenderly, feeling the heat rise up to his face  
 **  
**_ **  
** **John inhaled slowly at Sherlock's labored breaths. "Yea..." He started but suddenly found himself on his back and Sherlock was over him, straddling him. John blinked in surprise and looked up at the man as he came down on hi kissing his chest. John let out a small groan when he felt the hands over him and he closed his eyes his own breath coming out louder as the lips moved over his chest. "S-Sherlock..." He moaned and ran his fingers down Sherlock's chest and finished undoing the buttons. He pushed the shirt off of his shoulders and leaned up kissing Sherlock's fair skin. Without thinking, John pressed his hips up against Sherlock' feeling pleasure starting to build. He groaned and one arm wrapped around the detective and his finger tips clung to him, not wanting him to move** away.  
  
  
 _Sherlock moaned quietly and grabbed one of John's hands, squeezing it tightly and pressing it to his chest. Pleasure had arisen in his groin and he pressed it harshly against John's, smirking at the bliss filled face it had given John. Rubbing his chest on the doctors, he slid his hips up and down and kicked off his shoes onto the floor. "John.. how far are you willing to go?" He stopped kissing John's neck long enough to touch their foreheads together and look straight into his pupil consumed eyes. "And if we should stop soon, we should head to the bedroom. Don't want anyone walking in on us, hmm?"_  
  
  
 **John groaned again the moment he felt Sherlock pressing his hips against his own. John pressed back up against Sherlock and gasped looking up at Sherlock when he pressed his forehead against his. "Sherlock ... I...I don't want to stop. " John swallowed hard and reached up gripping Sherlock's curls. "I don't want you to stop...We can go to the bed room and continue...or here, I don't care." John was close to panting. He never though he could get so heated by Sherlock, but this man was driving him over the edge. John wanted him and he wanted him bad.**  


_"Let's go." Smirking, Sherlock lifted himself from John and pulled the doctor up with him, hurrying to the bedroom, undoing his belt buckle as he opened the door. Once they were both inside, Sherlock shut the door behind him and turned, eyeing John greedily. "So where to begin?" He purred from deep inside his throat. His once pale blue eyes, were now dark and completely consumed with want and lust. Taking a step towards John, Sherlock had already shrugged off of his trousers, standing only in his dark black boxers. His legs looked incredibly long in it, they stuck out like two pale toothpicks._

**John was off of the couch instantly and trailing Sherlock up the stairs, watching as the man was undressing as they walked. When the door was closed and John stood before him, seeing the desire in Sherlock's face. John kicked off his shoes and walked over to Sherlock, kissing him deeply. John undid his pants and started to slide them off as he wrapped his arms around him and pulled them both too the bed. John fell back on the bed and Sherlock over him. John shifted and bent his knees letting Sherlock slide fully between his legs. John leaned up and caught Sherlock's lips, kissing him hungrily**  
  
 _  
__Sherlock smirked and nibbled at John's collarbone softly, groaning slightly and closing his eyes. "Do you have idea.. how long i've waited for this? Every day, I used to look at you and hoped that you would look back. But you never looked back until now. And I'm so glad you did.." He trailed off and finally and slowly, removed his boxers. Smiling, but also blushing, he looked at John and trailed his tongue down from his jaw to his chest, leaving small kisses as he went. "What should we do first?" He chuckled_  
  
  
 **John inhaled sharply as Sherlock nibbled on his collar and John ran his fingers down Sherlock's spine. "I'm sorry Sherlock..." He swallowed and looked at him as he finally removed his last bit of clothes. John's eyes lingered for a moment before looking back into his eyes. "Whatever you want to Sherlock." John said, giving Sherlock permission to do as he liked. "You wanted this...for a long time..." John leaned up again and kissed Sherlock firmly before whispering against his lips. "Take what you want."**  
  
  
 _"Gladly." Sherlock smiled and leaned down, kissing John's soft stomach gently. "God, you taste so incredibly delicious.." Smirking, Sherlock trailed lower, now kissing just above his naval. His hands wandered up John's thigh, and finally they grabbed John's member. He could see the shudder in John and smiled when the doctor arched his back due to the contact of his warm hand now grasping his most tender area. Bringing his head back up and moving his hand around, he whispered in John's ear. "Why don't you, tell me what you want?"_  
  
  
 **John felt his whole body heat up as Sherlock's lips trailed down his body. He trembled lightly but it wasn't until Sherlock grabbed his member, that John arched and shuddered. John's fingers curled on the blanket and he let out a light moan. When Sherlock whispered against his ear, John looked at him, his face red and his breath coming out in tight pants. "Ah...you Sherlock...I just want you everywhere..." John released the blanket and one hand ran down Sherlock's body and gripped his hip.**  
  
  
 _"I know you do." He smirked and brought his mouth back down to where John was straining, waiting for him. Rubbing him up a little bit more, Sherlock's eyes wandered back to John's for a second, and as the connection was made, both came to an understanding. That after tonight, there'd be no ignoring what had happened. As the connection came to an end, Sherlock took John into his mouth and closed his eyes, relishing in the small groan that escaped from his throat. Smiling again, he began to move his mouth up and down the length of John._  
  
  
 **John felt his body jolt when Sherlock's mouth pressed against him. His mouth opened wide and he let out a string of moans. He felt Sherlock's hot mouth moving up and down his rod and he couldn't remember where anyone had made him feel more good. John reached down and his fingers curled into Sherlock's hair. "S-Sherlock ah...fuck...." he groaned and closed his eyes pressed his head back against the bed. He loved how Sherlock's mouth moved all the way to the tip and took him as deep as he could, as if he stretched the ecstasy that John was feeling. John's whole body shook with intense pleasure and he was lost in it all.**  
  
  
 _Sherlock grinned at the swear words coming out of his lover's mouth. He also smiled at his own name being moaned softly. Moving his mouth a bit faster, his left hand moved and found John's fingers, intertwining them together. He gave a small squeeze before taking John all the way in, then pulling back forcefully with his teeth tucked under his lips as he went, just to give John a little extra jolt. Squeezing John's hand again, Sherlock looked up and released his mouth from John. "How close are you?" He asked, half panting and his eyes bloodshot red from the adrenaline that was surging around his body, especially shooting to his groin._  
  
 **John arched as Sherlock continued to suck him hard and move his mouth all the way down his shaft. John gasped and felt his body tightening up with pleasure and his hips bucked. Yet when Sherlock pulled the away, John almost whimpered as he looked up at Sherlock. "No..." He whispered and looked into Sherlock's eyes panting. "Close...so close..." John moved his hand down and ran a finger up Sherlock's shaft feeling it twitch against the touch. John looked up into Sherlock's eyes before wrapping his fingers around Sherlock's rod and started to stroke him.**  
  
  
 _Sherlock smirked as he took John back into his mouth to finish him off. The warmth of John's rugged hand touching him made him shiver with a rush of pleasure and he groaned quietly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hand followed to John's, helping him to stroke himself. Pursing his lips, he pulled up on John's strained member harshly and began to stroke the bottom with his free hand. With a couple more strokes to his own cock, Sherlock's vision blurred, his calves tightened and his back arched. Moaning slightly, but at the same time not wanting to avert his sounds from reaching John's ears, he released, shuddering forward and streaming onto John's stomach. But he did not stop moving with John. Sherlock was determined to make him come_  
  
  
 **John continued to stoke Sherlock and loved the sounds that Sherlock was making. He didn't stop moving his hand but the jerking of his own hips caused him to gasp. After a few more strokes, he felt Sherlock erupt on him and hearing the groan that escaped Sherlock's mouth caused John to explode with pleasure. His back arched and he was blinded by ecstasy. It all felt so damn good and when he came back to himself he slowly opened his eyes and looked at the man over him, both of them panting.**  
  
  
 _Crawling upwards towards John, Sherlock kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear. "I could really go for some tea. Stay. I'll get you some tissue so you can clean up." Getting off of him, Sherlock didn't bother putting his clothes on and trudged to the bathroom. Once inside, he grabbed a handful of tissue and walked back to the room. Smiling, he wiped the drying come off of John's stomach and threw it in the waste bin. Sherlock held his hand out for John to grab and he smiled again. For once, he had a happy glow to him. His pale skin positively gleamed with health and he could see the same kind of contentment in John's dark eyes. "C'mon. I'll get you a cuppa and we can watch telly or something dull and boring. Like normal people do."_  
  
  
 **John smiled at Sherlock as he pulled away and walked out of the room. John laid back and ran his hand though his hair, breathing in deeply. He slowly realized what they both just did. There was no denying it now, no hiding the fact there was something between them. When Sherlock returned to John and cleaned him up, John glanced at the man before him. He could see right away something changed in Sherlock, something sparked inside of him. John smiled and sat up as Sherlock offered his hand. The two stood up and the doctor nodded. "Something dull? Right after all that...Come on Sherlock, we're supposed to be on a case. Shall we head off to France now or something?"**  
  
  
  
 _"Joooohn. Do we have to leave now?" He groaned and fell on his back onto the bed. "Can't we leave in the morning?" Sherlock groaned again and hid his face into a pillow. He sighed heavily, his chest taking a deep plunge. The coolness of the cloth felt good against his face and he closed his eyes, beginning to realize just how tired he was. His hands relaxed at his sides and he began to drift off, even though he could hear John talking to him in the background. He was simply too exhausted from a bombardment of emotions, sentiment, and the activities he had been through the entire day. And for the detective, what he wanted most was to lay by his new-found lovers side and go to sleep._  
  
  
 **John glanced at Sherlock and saw the man before him start to actually fall asleep. He sighed and nodded before taking a seat at his side. John reached over and pulled the blanket over him and remained silent for some time. A smile passed his lips and he laid on his stomach and started to stroke Sherlock's hair out of his eyes. He ran a gentle and down Sherlock's sharp features and he ran his thumb over his lips. "Just get some sleep ok?" John said and got out of the bed and turned off the light. He walked over to the bed once again and laid down and covered his waist with the blanket.**

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****  
  
A few hours passed and John suddenly jolted awake. He looked around quickly, feeling his heart in his throat. Quickly he glanced at the bed beside him and saw that Sherlock was still there. He then looked around the room and after a few glances he started to calm down slightly. Strange...he thought. For a moment it sounded as if someone was walking around. John relaxed for a moment before a creak on the stairs was heard. John was on his feet then and he silently opened the drawer at his side and pulled out his gun. John reached on the floor and pulled his boxers on and carefully walked over to the door. Opening it slowly, John glanced outside and saw no one on the stair case. Carefully he started down the stair case, carefully avoiding the creaking ones. He reached the main floor and kept close to the wall, searching for any sign of someone inside. John rounded a corner and the living room proved to be empty. He shifted towards the kitchen and rose his gun as he entered, yet no one was there either. John lowered his gun and let out a breath.  
  
  
 _It was quite considerably later when Sherlock woke up. He began to blink rapidly and look around the room. Not being able to see anything, his arm shot out slowly to find John and to his surprise, he found nothing. Sherlock sat up quickly and looked around, his pulse quickening and his forehead beginning to perspire. "John?" He whispered, panic appearing in his voice. "John, are you in here?" Sitting up out of bed, he pulled on a pair of his sweatpants he had used once before in a drug den case and flicked on the bedroom light. The brightness had hurt his eyes, but he rubbed them with the palms of hands and quickly adjusted to it. Turning the knob on the door, he peeked his head out and looked around. "John..?" The panic was approaching fast and he stepped outside, closing their bedroom behind him. Making his way down the stairs, he walked fast, the floorboards creaking as he did so. "Love?" Looking into the living room, he could barely see anything. Approaching the inside of it, he took his steps cautiously and looked around. Since he had just been in the light, now his eyes were trying to get accustomed to the dark._  
  
When he was about halfway in the middle of the room, he heard a noise behind him and turned to face it quickly. "John?"  
  
  
 **John walked carefully into another room, his eyes still scanning the darkness. It wasn't until he heard Sherlock calling out to him that he lowered his gun. It didn't appear that anyone was in here, but his senses were still on high alert. He sighed and looked around once more.**  
  
From behind, a fist came hard against Sherlock, knocking him back. A figure in the dark wrapped their hands around Sherlock's neck and pushed him back against the wall hard. The hands clutched at Sherlock, digging nails into his skin and knocked over a lamp in the process.   
  
  
 _Sherlock was pushed violently against a wall and he struggled to get rid of the harsh hands that were strangling him. Kicking his feet and trying to yell John's name, his voice came in raspy pleas and his throat began to burn intensely. His hands moved towards the person's neck and he tried to strangle back but his strength was already fleeing and his vision began to blacken. Choking horrifically, he spat out John's name once more began kicking one last time and managing to kick the captor in his shin, triggering them to fall backwards, yelling in pain.  
  
  
_ **John heard the commotion and he ran into the room, his gun drawn. He saw the figure before Sherlock stumble back and could hear Sherlock's raspy breathing. John put the gun in the back of his pants and tackled the man. The two struggled for control and John sent a quick punch to the attackers face. Hands gripped at his own throat but John struggled over him to break the hold.**  
  
  
 _Although Sherlock had just been attacked, he was definitely not going to let this guy hurt his John. Flying forward from the wall, he side tackled the attacker onto the hard wooden floor. Straddling his hips, he pinned the persons hands together to the floor with his right arm, and then with his left he continued to punch the attacker in the face harshly, hoping to knock him out._  
  
Sherlock stepped off of the man and fell to the floor, wincing at how much his throat hurt. "John.." he rasped and closed his eyes, beginning to become unconscious.  
  
  
 **John got up instantly and grabbed a scarf from a wall hanger and instantly tied it around the attackers hands but he had blacked out seconds before Sherlock fell off the man. John hurried to Sherlock and laid him down. John looked angrily at the man who laid on the ground before turning back to Sherlock and leaning down, closing his nose and breathing deeply into Sherlock's mouth. He did this once more twice before pulling back enough, feeling Sherlock breathing well enough on his own. He looked back at the man and saw the man was gone and the front door was just thrown open. John got to his feet and hurried to the front but there was no sign of anyone. He turned around and walked back to Sherlock and knelt beside him.  
  
  
** _Sherlock rasped again and coughed as his breathing came back. Coming into shock, he tried to stand up too quickly and almost immediately lost his balance. "J-john? Where is he? We have to fin-" Holding onto the wall, he had almost fallen over onto the coffee table in front of the couch. He caught his balance and coughed horrendously, hunching over and heaving. "You have.. to go after him." He breathed and looked to stare John in the eyes. "I'll be fine. Go." He snapped at John, looking away and struggling to make his way to the couch. Wincing again, he laid on his back, obviously in pain. His throat burned immensely. Like the time they had broken into the Japanese woman's house and he had been attacked by her brother. Sherlock had been strangled there but even that strangulation was nothing compared to what it was like now. And it was even worse knowing John was only a couple feet away from him, probably worrying about him.  
  
  
_ **John shook his head and walked over to help Sherlock. "Sherlock, I'm not leaving you." He knew he should be going after the man but it was too late now. John didn't even know where to begin. He wasn't sure of this had anything to do with the case or not but John did not want to leave Sherlock alone any longer. "Take deep breaths, and stop talking. I need you to relax your throat." John ordered and stood up looking to the front of the room. "We need to finish this case Sherlock."  
  
  
** _"Get me tea or something." Sherlock commanded. "Please." Smiling slightly, he started to cough slightly and winced again. The more he seemed to talk, the more it seemed to hurt. He decided he'd rest his voice for a bit until John was done making his cuppa. Putting his head back on the armrest of the chair, he coughed again, winced at each breath he took. "We'll leave first thing tomorrow morning, yes?" Was the last thing he said before he erupted into a choking fit, tears coming into his eyes and his breath heaving with ache. It was definitely time to stop talking for now, or it would just start to hurt even more, and Sherlock really didn't need that a day before John and him were heading somewhere exciting and romantic. It may have been all for a case, but to him, it was also a chance to get away from most of the drama and spend a little private time with the doctor.  
  
  
_ **John turned and headed into the kitchen as he started to make some tea for Sherlock. John stood there and suddenly anger washed over him. Sherlock was hurt. He could have been killed...John inhaled sharply and thought about Mary. Maybe this didn't have anything to do with the case. Maybe this was Mary. He swallowed hard and thought for a long while before shaking his head, "no. No...it can't be. She would ever go that far."John concluded as he poured the cuppa for Sherlock and walked back to the room. He put the cup beside Sherlock and took a seat at the arm chair. "go to sleep. I'll stay up." John said and placed his gun at his side, his eyes on the door  
  
  
** _"You should already know I won't be able to sleep now." Rolling his eyes, he managed to speak after he'd taken a couple sips of his tea. "It's impossible." Even after they had just been attacked, Sherlock managed to still be somewhat of an asshole. Well, more better put, he was sociopath Sherlock again. Closing his eyes again and taking another small gulp, he sighed heavily and rolled onto his side, facing John intently. "I know what you're thinking about, and it could be a possibility it was her. I'd suggest you'd get your mind off of it before you do something rash and uncalled for." Sherlock rolled back onto his back and grabbed the telly remote that was on the coffee table. Flicking it on, he switched to the most mildly entertaining channel that he'd come across. Nothing on telly ever interested him, but it was better than sitting around here in clear tension.  
  
  
_ **John closed his eyes and sighed loudly. "It was not her. I do not want to hear that being brought up again." John said roughly before putting his head in his hands. He rubbed his temples and then rested his chin on his knuckles. John crossed a leg over the other and glared at the telly. He did not want to think about Mary, but after hearing her threat and this man coming from nowhere and attacked Sherlock...John couldn't possibly believe that she would actually go through with...not her. Mary couldn't....  
  
  
** _"I was just saying it was a possibility." Sherlock snapped back and sat up, standing up slowly and carrying his empty cup over to the sink and washing it out. "Goodnight." And that was the last thing he said before wincing and trudged to his room angrily and extremely tense like. Upon reaching his door, he stepped inside and closed it behind him. Taking off his sweats, he pulled his sheets back and got underneath them, sighing heavily and rolling onto his side. The throbbing in his throat began to dull and his eyes got heavy. Turning off the bedside lamp he had turned on earlier before he'd been attacked, Sherlock sunk his head into his pillow and closed his eyes, knowing that John might have been too angry to join him this night. This saddened Sherlock and rolled onto his side, facing the doorway and expecting any moment he'd walk in and join Sherlock in bed_  
  
  
 **John sighed and stood up, turning off the telly as Sherlock headed up to his room. John rubbed his eyes as he walked over to the stair case and took a seat at the top. He wanted to head back into Sherlock's room, to lay back down beside him and sleep but the soldier in him couldn't let this go. John kept his gun close to him and he watched the front door, his eyes never leaving.**  
  
Finally morning came around and John had dozed off less than forty minutes ago. His head hung by his chest as he still sat on the top of the stairs. Even if the doctor had managed to fall asleep, he listened to every sound that happened around him and finally hearing the morning traffic outside, John shifted, but still asleep.   
  
  
 _Sherlock struggled to get out of bed in the morning. He was extremely disappointed when he looked over and noticed John wasn't lying next to him. Sighing of dismay of last night's events, he threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, walking over to his wardrobe and rubbing his neck. Looking in the mirror, he noticed there were fingerprint blotches on his neck. Not good, he thought. Sherlock decided he'd wear the scarf. Taking a suitcase out of his closet, he packed for the both of them, debating on whether to take some of John's less appealing jumpers._  
  
Once he was done, he got out his remaining clothes in the dresser and put on a regular suit. Along with his scarf, of course, to hide the marks on his neck. Pulling the handles on both suitcases, he opened the door and smiled to find John sitting at the top of the stairs. "John?"  
  
  
 **John jolted slightly when Sherlock called his name. He looked up and saw the other man dressed to leave. John stood up a rubbed his shoulder as he headed into his room. "Morning.." He said, his voice gruff from the event before. John stood before his closet and looked inside before undressing and redressing into something he always wore. He could really care less about how he looked. John pulled on his shoes and headed over to Sherlock. He had a feeling that Sherlock might have been mad at him but he wanted the morning to be fresh, so John reached him and simply gave him a soft kiss. "Sleep well?" He asked as he walked down stairs.**  
  
  
 _"Not without you." Sherlock smiled softly and kissed John's cheek in return. "It may be sentimental of me to say, but I missed you." He watched John change and sat on the edge of the bed, tapping his feet on the floor. His hands were splayed on the sides of the bed and he was leaning back, whistling a soft tune. "Should I bring my violin? Will they even let it on the plane? I just assumed you'd want me to bring it. I know how you love when I play your song." Smiling again, he stood up and walked over to John, standing behind him and lowering his head to his shoulder; resting his chin on it. His lips found the soft skin below Johns ear and Sherlock began to nibble on it softly, planting small kisses down the length of his golden complexion. He could see the blush start to arise in John's face and he smirked to himself. This marked the morning that him and John would be heading out. Now, as he thought of before, earlier, this was mainly for a case, but spending time in the city of love couldn't hurt. It'd even possibly bring them closer._  
  
Let's find out.  


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End file.
